Poetry About Internet

A blue router light blinks while the sleeping house joins the world. We ask a search bar questions once saved for libraries or friends. Across an ocean, a face arrives with a half-second delay. The internet makes distance smaller and attention easier to sell. A joke circles the planet before its author finishes lunch. So can a lie, sharpened by repetition and arranged for outrage.

Across an ocean, a face arrives with a half-second delay. Communities form around rare needs no neighbor happened to share. Private life becomes data moving through rooms we cannot enter. Twenty open tabs keep twenty possible selves from closing. Connection is abundant; being understood remains difficult. The network disappears, but its weather stays inside the mind.

A blue router light blinks while the sleeping house joins the world. A joke circles the planet before its author finishes lunch. So can a lie, sharpened by repetition and arranged for outrage. Twenty open tabs keep twenty possible selves from closing. At midnight I unplug the cable and hear the refrigerator hum. The network disappears, but its weather stays inside the mind.