Mack Cooper

Boston, 1997
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Lost Lost

There is no place to hide,
While floating acolytes with greedy eyes,
Watch and gather and trace everything at once.
No place for the stone and clay to sink
Away from prying fingers,
And not with lens and brush.

There shall be no more lost kingdoms,
Or shifts in dirt, rock and water
That go undetected.
No place for sylvan lands
To retain there civil domains,
Or icy tides their chill.

There is no corner shrouded in silence.
No space will not discern vibrations,
Rumbles and cloudy black coughs.
There is no piece of matter which is not
Penetrated by invisible bullets
With godly capabilities in fundamental change.

It can all be tracked, spaced
Charted and digitized into forms
The layman will not understand,
Or will, but be too greatly overmatched,
Or preoccupied or reliant on sheer convenience.
And with all the tools we crumble.
89 Total read