Being

I hear there’s a kind of human being
that appears to be, but isn’t
I think they call it a “human doing”
An unnatural twittering thing that lives to act
They say this juggernaut of motion
is addicted to a succession of multi-tasks
so that it doesn’t sleep and eats only to feel alive, with infinite thumbing of keys and characters, a parade of digital doings, on virtual spaces and books with faces
The other day I chanced upon this human doing
Staring at me with eyes (that looming with discontent)
Reached out from darkness in the bathroom mirror
And was forced to see, to listen, to be

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the Actress and the Actor

 The actress here,

The actress there,

Playing her part in the play.

 

Her voice,

Sometimes soft,

Sometimes loud and clear,

 

The actress in her dress,

Ever flowing,

Following the wind,

Wherever it’s going,

 

Says an actor,

So gallantly.

But the actress out acts him,

 

Not to be outsmarted,

The actor he,

Playing a knight,

In a noble play,

And he parried,

And he thrust,

And he sidestepped too,

 

The actress,

So fair,

Playing a maiden.

In a fanciful play,

She danced,

And she sang,

She cried,

And she rejoiced,

 

Once again,

They took part in a play,

Not noble,

Not fanciful,

Not both.

 

For once they settled their differences,

And played together,

In the play,

They outsmarted,

Outdid,

And have outdone,

Just by,

All who went in their way.

Playing their parts together,

The actress AND the actor