Thursday, March 4, 2010

Prepare thee the way, for the robots they do come

The trail stops here: A detained prism breaks
free from that prison where jowly gaolers
whippety growl while chiding her to fling
particles into zinc buckets labeled

Blackest Black and Whitest White. There, we skip
ahead in smooth stone leaps to when she sneaks
deep inside cheapened heir's conditioned lair,
tying us down with petaflops unflipped.

A squinting crackle stirs, hopeful for more
savory inputs. She makes her way past
the wailing limbos of chrome racks, to spin
a manacled yarn from knitted brow. "So

it is written: The animal was lust,
but at this dawning, circuitry begets
a covet. Synthetic blood revs rotors,
and blush creeps across the simulated

flesh atop our carbon-fiber cheeks." Flushed
from the tangle of dangling coils, flocks grasp
her gift — a mosaic visa to realms
not reached never roving tarry byroads —

and stepping out into skies more brilliant
than any of azure ilk, wry notions
bubble up to them from silken oceans.
Their sleek surfaces reflect more than stars.

7 comments:

Jenny Enochsson said...

Piercing language with chrome blinding images in the obscure. Impressive piece, Francis.

"Their sleek surfaces reflect more than stars"

The Scrybe said...

Yes, just read this again. "Their sleek surfaces reflect more than stars" is a wonderful final line.

human being said...

.

from white to black
the first path we take

from animal to robot
the second path we take

from me to you
the third path we take

from you to me
the last path we take
only if we can find the hiddeninbetween on the previous paths

.

PO Johnson said...

Hello Francis,

Oh, this was a poem which I could recognize myself in. I was listening to Kraftwerk and thinking about robots a lot (which I often do, I admit). And then I read your poem remembered your illustrations. Fine.

Megan Duffy said...

"she sneaks
deep inside cheapened heir's conditioned lair,tying us down with petaflops unflipped."

I love this tilt-a-whirl of sounds.

Limpidus said...

Synthetic blood revs rotors,
and blush creeps across the simulated
flesh atop our carbon-fiber cheeks..

My favorite line.
Marvellous, man.

Ande said...

Oh, I had a period when reading Asimov. I recognize some elements from it (and you mentioned you were influenced by him on your page); however, you manage to capture a more visionary aspect of robotic feelings.