On deck our freshly caulked clipper
(Japanese for “fall”) we bid
the Twentieth Century farewell
with Safe&Sane brand fireworks;
ashore the condo cave-dwellers
tend the winter landscape with Adam’s
Needle, dogwood, and Bright Edge;
may blooms and birds fill sieved skies
and sea-beasts flourish in scoured seas:
the consequence of cyberspace was once
the best selling dreamboat in Athens.

    Necessary, each chairborne epoch,
to torch obsolescent idols, irse todo en
—up in smoke—and continue proselytizing
progress; perhaps we’ll survive “smartness”
which once described attributes of style,
quick wit, alacrity, and now means “computer-
managed” to eventually include machinelike
maladroitness, cyber-mangling; I’m too young
to quibble like a duffer so lend me a musty,
leathery romance where the princess rescued
has eyes so deep blue they appear clear black,
lacquered, engulfed in watery pupil—
as powerfully apotropaic as a chrome-plated
crucifix—the indescribable impression
a lesser poet would classify “cerulean.”


Sean Brendan-Brown