state of confusion
Song of the Modem
Amazing. This could not have occurred
in the not-so-distant past.
What do we crave so desperately,
that drives crazed notions across
dusty particles of insular transmissions?
Somewhere, a gadget collects our fees and listens in,
while we pretend we are alone in the world.
We added layers of reality. No longer just text,
but voices carrying across strings,
from Dixie cup to Dixie cup.
We sent dots that translated to blurry images,
fill in the gaps where you can.
Expecting an airbrushed perfection?
If so, you will be gravely disappointed.
What do I envision, the end-all, be-all?
The dream ancient woman have dreamt
for thousands of years.
Will Icarus finally fly? The bird awaiting this flight
is not made feathers but flawed shiny metal,
a contraption of melting wires and loosening bolts.
If the lights turn out, what then love? What then?
© 2000 Corinne Bailey
[This message has been edited by Corinne (edited 02-28-2000).]