Dormant Code [Today's News Poem, March 22, 2011]
If blossoms admit it; if jackhammers mutter,
Jackasses sputter it—spring is erection
And promises doused at the summer's discretion.
Spring is the architect, spring is the beauty;
And spring is the whimsy that animates flirting,
Coffee then sex, then placenta in garbage.
The blossoms are falling—they're purple-white falling—
Corpses of salmon are caught in the gravel,
The mushrooms consume what remains of a redwood,
Why won't you bury the afterbirth stillborn
And plant on the grave—if not pear, plant a plum tree?
Look at the city, it's rising; it's falling,
It's built on the efforts of ultimate knowledge.
Calculate will to the decimal spirit,
The programs will find you and activate software
Fucking you, fighting you, flighting and feeding
Your face—you're a robot. My face—I'm a robot.
"The psychologists also measured other factors, including the workers’ general satisfaction with their lives, how energetic they felt, how strongly they endorsed an ethic of hard work. None of these factors was a reliable predictor of their actual performance on the job, as rated by their supervisors. But the higher the workers scored on the scale of belief in free will, the better their ratings on the job."
—JOHN TIERNEY, The New York Times, Published: March 21, 2011
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