Toxic Lake Reflects on Product Liquidity
and Planned Obsolescence
Birds used to chirp,
A chip falls in for rest,
For the mind in repose
And the sun, does
Anybody hear micro-
Waves slowly cook
Salamanders along
The shore anymore?
A log perfecting a rate:
Decay and value amidst
Pink-hued, yellowish-green
Sunsets guarantees four
More years of early iPhone
Launches even as another
Lonely lark sinks beneath
This muddy chemical blanket,
Its eyes glazed with relief.
And in the dark, the quiet,
The bubbles pop, digesting
Silt and muck, burping
A premonition of good
Fortune for this year's
Electronics trade shows.
Look, it all commands, look
At the subscriber numbers and
View counts! What a success,
This viral video that was so
Popular a year ago, what
Joy we find while surveying
All we have accomplished!
currency
Which is more privileged:
the tree or its bark, the
car or its horn, the tax
ledge or its privatized
healthcare system, the
dog or its bite?
Which type of money substitute
would I prefer to spend?
Is my body concerned with
unchecked economic growth
around the middle or at the
bottom line of finite time?
Can I eat your leftover pizza?
I've only had some supple
leather and chewy tendon
this week, which makes
for a delicious and nourishing
stew, sure, but leaves me
desiring something substantial
before I attend the opera.
Is my body concerned with
operational excellence
whilst in the nude
by the time I descend
all those stairs that either
lead to a tastefully
renovated bathroom or
my eventual
doom, or ?
Can I spend some of your labour?
I used all of mine to write this poem
and I'm waiting for the return
on my investment to mature
into pizza pockets full of moths
fluttering skyward when I cut
into them rather than devouring
my sweater collection.
Sold Poem (CAD $4.99)
What I'm asking for, a water colour,
and what you are delivering, a home gym,
voids my contractual obligation
to have dinner with your mother.
There has to be a donkey in all of this
that will work with the colour scheme
we chose for our hobby farm that sits
next to our hobby energy company's HQ.
I could get a smile from a baby
for a song or take candy for that matter
if it is just business, then who painted
my lawn such an awful green?
This poem is a ski mask
a target with no lines
no colour wheel or
a spin cycle class
on laundering intent
no fixed placard or
precarious labour or
around which to
announce an end
of us versus them
except who among us
and what of them
walks along the
olive branch
stretched across
whichever fake
divide suits
our causes?
what poem isn't a
valet for rich readers?
bottle service
stolen land
a vip seat
would you
sign the petition
for poets
against privilege?
it's on the other
side of this velvet rope
this poems is a ski mask
this poem hides in the garage
this poem features three knives
this poem waits for you
this poem wants for nothing
this isn't really a poem
some crushed diamonds
mixed with a residency
at a chalet in France
and never a whiff
of poetry as an object
in the strictest
technical sense
of an orange vapour
an unknown agent
a spectacular sunrise
or royalty cheque
the separate address
for this sole
proprietorship
in name only
sitting upright
citizens in name only
hunkering private-like
as the giant eye
swivels past
without pause
over where we live
us poets
in the know
in name only
26 notes from a
necessary product reflecting on its experience of the future
1. is my life worth trading in this game for coins, or cosmetic upgrades? a series of confusing questions might obtain, such as: how much time do I have left? how many coins? what colour of cape?
2. to whom do i pledge fealty: to the hardware designers and bank on short term gains for my lineage?
3. should i spend my money on software and buy whatever i can get cheaply on the auction house in order to hedge against the time when the hardware finally catches up?
4. can i expect to be able to use all of the devices in my body with the latest operating system patch?
5. the sound of two long blasts on the horn signals the loss of identity mixed with an unhealthy desire for more identity on Twitter.
6. what gift would you offer to salvage something when the war for our data finally stops and we can look up from the trenches without fear of losing more of our privacy, i asked the archivists in attendance.
7. we fear our governments and yet give everything to companies who owe us nothing and are predatory as part of their business model.
8. line à into slot b then reverse
9. i like the blue deodorant because the green deodorant smells too antiseptic or something, too piney. it makes me yearn for the fjords and i hate yearning. yearning is weak.
10. notes from stress test: plastic wheels and blue plastic body rolls until the wheels crack or dent, connotes user should have been less rough, blame the children, make 10% less durable.
11. what should i be able to do in the 21st Century?
12. the playground looks vaguely like a ship, make sure some metal exposed to elements, cold temps and rain for optimal rust, target for replacement 5 years, acceptable limit for loss of children needs analysis.
13. x marks the spot where treasure is buried, but in this case the x abrades the surface enough that eventually fine cracks appear in the substructure that will lead a user to replace the unit at considerable cost / profit!
14. a yarn company except with wool from only one sheep that accepts money for spots on the waiting list. the sheep has a phenomenal pedigree and good manners, local, slow, organic, etc.
15. when we design a product we must always be conscious of reducing the cost of the material and assembly, decreasing the actual amount of product contained vs the size of container, increasing the chance of accidental breakage esp. of key components like pumps, handles, vacuum seals, spouts, lids, hinges, etc. we must increase the desirability of the product to the point a user feels lucky to own and use it, and experiences significant FOMO if unable to attain it, thusly when the product breaks the user will feel shame, sadness, guilt, and frustration not with the product or producer but with herself.
16. what happens when we are deep into a time when we can't repair the basic elements of our lives ourselves?
17. glass jars must clink well, plastic bottles must have good hand feel, ergonomics is a selling feature. hands should feel good when accidentally breaking products.
18. imagine a future. that's it really. just imagine a future.
19. nice ride on the horizon, faded frontiers full of empty signs await us in Valhalla or whatever shitty strip mall we call the afterlife.
20. is part of the reason we like chocolate that it looks like shit but we can eat it and enjoy it? let's face it, some chocolate is really bad, but i'd rather eat it than shit any day. is it the ingestion of waste, the eating of something that resembles a substance our bodies excrete, that makes it erotic?
21. i don't know. maybe i'm over thinking our relationship to the things in our lives.
22. a flickering spate of stars splashed across my high def VR field of vision suggests i've landed myself in the middle of something i can never hope to control. i was playing a game and then an ad started for some treatment cream and now i don't know where i am or how to exit the ad.
23. a choir of voices risen as we shop online, subscribe and save, as we lift our baskets to the sky and beg for a few pennies off the dollar, a scrimp to salvage whatever humanity we traded on the open market for access to free shipping especially if we inveigle a friend.
24. i don't know how i feel about using a deodorant called vengeance thirst or freedom thrust.
25. scavengers at the fount describe a desire for recommendations, a closing of the gap in the protective screen lining the sphere in which we bathe.
26. adrift, maybe. at a loss, certainly!
