Monday, January 4, 2010

Poem: "Blackberry Whitman"

Blackberry Whitman
©2008/2010 mykl g. sivak



I download your poem
democratically and
your words imbue my
electronic device,

You made poetry open-source
like the language of America,
or the way your Secular Saints
claimed this nation and its order
must be open source.

What is the source of Electronic Whitman?
What are your magnetic electron poems?
Do they fill the expandable memories
of America’s devices?

Have your words made their secret
way into the hands of the many?
Or are they avoided still by your masses
who seek instead the inane distraction
of vapid pop-culture-america-2010?

Will electronic democracy
prove your undoing?
Will the open-source experiment
erase your life’s words
like a reboot?

Or will you slumber still?
Hidden on drives of one-million
out-sourced servers—

In Indonesia, UAE, Dubai,
Taipei, or in some New America—
in Africa of elsewhere—
where a hungry populace
can drink your words
like the blackest, sweetest juice

beneath an equatorial sun,
in deserts and savannas,
on black market smartphones,
nomads will find you
and read your words,

reinterpret them, chop and translate,
redistribute, and mutilate.

Electronic inbox lights will blink
at receiving you, and some
men and women will see
that your America is not a place—

that America is not itself—

that the experimental wiki
of democratic inclusion
can mean whatever they want—
if what they want is good.

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