A fairer day
In Faraday
–so faraway
from web. . .
the weave
that traps
–in bits & apps–
in text &
tweets &
threads
But microwave
in kitchen–
staves
–off EM waves
from soul. . .
inside it’s me
I ask—
not Jeeves
–not Google
or
Echo
on plate
within,
I sit & spin
a winsome weave
unseen. . .
no post nor pin
required—
since
this hotspot
has no screen
and
now new
stream’s
all mine—
it seems
my dreams
are worn–
not torn. . .
in 2 by face
book posts—
in place
just me
(and some popcorn)
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