When it is finally mine—
this hope, this rhetoric,
this periodic element of earth
we supposedly acquire with age as
the tide for out-of-sync waves
even as the ignition for idle bridges—

so we can have, not just hold.

Where I am not heavy—
but lightweight & liberated,
unconventional & cultivated;
digital clearness
even through analog dependency
fully receptive, antenna-free.

When it is finally triumphant—
this war, this revolution,
these gladiator-style battles
we supposedly hoard resources,
right-of-passage our youth,
& allocate bodies-to-bag—

so we can live freely, not just exist.

Where I can lay me to rest—
undisturbed, devoid of fear,
detached yet crystal clear
high frequency of signals
but perfect clarity

internally receptive, antenna-free
this man will feel at home.

Mark Anthony Thomas
Copyright © 2004

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