Wednesday, November 23, 2005

cadee49: Writing for the server

Or, a Blogger's Lament
This is for you, ya old thin-blade,
Stacked in a warehouse
Somewhere on either coast, or both,
Or maybe in Kansas City.
You keeper of the tedious minutiae of my life,
Witness to its occasional tumultuous angst,
My eclectic compendium of a day's reading,
Collector of pithy quotes from famous dead people--
A chaotic collection of self.
(Sitemeter tells me,
Mine is not a well-trafficked life.)
Not for me the quill pen, the scratchy parchment
The tools of so many writers past;
Rather the staccato tapping of keys,
The internal processing of bytes;
The wireless transmission of my soul
Through a little black box that helps
Fling my words into copper wire and then
Out somewhere into the ether;
Digitizing my life all the way to
California or Virginia, maybe, or
Even Kansas City, like I said,
For a backup. One I don't personally have.

No comments:

Post a Comment