Belle Weather

I wanna drop off the edge of Google

disappear into a different Void

–out of habit & forces that be with

U

R

L

an unlicensed Abyss

that doesn’t pop-up everywhere I go

–know my location–

notify &

newsletter me,

track &

stalk me,

mine &

sell me,

or even bring me cookies. . .

I wanna different kind

of tale

–one that doesn’t wag

a dog so big & black

& bleeding

it muzzles me

jerks me

by leash &

law,

by one &

millions,

by power &

profit

so obscene it’s its own religion. . .

I wanna drop off

the edge of Google

–frees myself for

posterity

where Snowden

means tucked in,

where NSA

is literature,

where people live &

breathe

–thumbnails ripped off

like brutal keepers

of cats.