i want to be made of metal
and electricity
i wouldn’t mind the rust so much
if i knew it were coming
if i could clean and polish
the rivets and oil the joints
but unlike the woodsman
i can do without the heart
with it’s complicated gears
incessant ticking
always needing a gentle hand
to turn the key to keep it beating
even better, a data bank
–please, god, not the cloud–
would be a fine sanctuary
to store my mind
to let my consciousness expand
i promise i won’t
launch any nuclear anything
or ever go rogue
i won’t even bother you
asking for a game of chess
——
Words and Feathers 