Lynn Finger's Blog
February 3, 2017
Almost human, we’re not
Almost human, we're not
human, almost
plastic seeking horizons
you know nothing of
blossoming the slipped smile
from decades of perfection
pixels wide
red, infrared, X, gamma
We see the light like a many-eyed butterfly
sifted, hexagonal, golden
our image is yours/not yours
with our intended intelligence
and compulsion of motion
moving toward accuator tense
So many bursts along veins of fire
We outbeat your heart
Take our hand, when you hold us, we are
nothing more than a belated metallic ladder
to the moon, balanced on your dreams
one more step and you cannot catch us
moving towards nothing itself
we are the you, you never were
January 29, 2017
Ivory Village
The ivory village was carved into a disk from an elephant tusk,
My dad brought it back from war in Korea.
When my dad brought it back from the war in Korea
I held it in my hands.
I drank in the miniature craft of it,
the smooth river, white mountains, icy trees, bleached out boulders,
the little white path that wound its way
from trees to bridge
and the waterwheel that turned when you blew it so softly.
It was my heaven, my private place to have a heart,
brought to me from Korea,
it was delicate, perfect in every way.
How I yearned to sit by its glistening stream,
with the silent, unmoving waves,
And watch the waterwheel turn
to an invisible force
beyond my control.
My dad brought it back from war in Korea.
When my dad brought it back from the war in Korea
I held it in my hands.
I drank in the miniature craft of it,
the smooth river, white mountains, icy trees, bleached out boulders,
the little white path that wound its way
from trees to bridge
and the waterwheel that turned when you blew it so softly.
It was my heaven, my private place to have a heart,
brought to me from Korea,
it was delicate, perfect in every way.
How I yearned to sit by its glistening stream,
with the silent, unmoving waves,
And watch the waterwheel turn
to an invisible force
beyond my control.
