the boy would look at us
see nothing but phantoms
blips in the radar
of his imagination
haunting about him
immaterial, and impossible
to touch.
when he began to fear us
we began to fear him.
we sensed his eyes
did not see us as human.
flesh at this level of fabrication seeks to rip itself from its spirit. a creation that damns its maker. a confession made behind the eyes as the barrell of a gun. a man, a judge, who could not see other men but only the fear of their judgment.
Computer poetry is warfare carried out by other means, a warfare against conventionality and language that has become automatized. Strange as it seems, our finite state automata have become the poet’s allies in this struggle, the long historical battle by which mankind pries into the surface of language to reveal its latent mysteries… R.W. Bailey, Computer Poems (1973)
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
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