My legs were useless, so I added wheels.
My lungs were weak, a siren takes their place.
I see potential everywhere. I heal
The wounds of possibility with grace:
Aborting what will only suffer woe...
Improving incompleteness... making wholes
From parts and parts from wholes... and what I grow
From nothing makes me godlike—what's a soul
But air? What frames the null with sound and lights?
The disco blue and red of cops that scream
Along with megaphones—a bus ignites
Its engine, silver jets above me gleam...
Yes, everything's connected through the void
With shrieks: the sound we've always best enjoyed.
“Mr. Campbell continues to struggle with the effects of the deluge of data. Even after he unplugs, he craves the stimulation he gets from his electronic gadgets. He forgets things like dinner plans, and he has trouble focusing on his family.”
– Matt Richtel, The New York Times, June 8, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/07/technology/07brain.html?ref=technology
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