This piece really hearkens back to a style I used in Patterns, my second collection of poetry, and the minimalistic, repetitive phrasing with gradual evolutions that seems to evoke this machine like, mechanized pattern of life we are in today. I wanted this to be eerie, in the mode of Fahrenheit 451 or 1984. I wanted to create a feeling of having that machine over your shoulder, listening to what you say, watching what you write on the internet. Technology might seem like a miracle, but there is a sinister side to it. Like the old man at the end of Akira Kurasawa's brilliant movie, Dreams, I want to tell people to go back to nature, because the works of the hands of man are corrupt and have side effects. Thought provoking, I hope. One more poem to post in this collection, in two parts, and it is done at last. I am ready to move on. estory

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