We Found This

We Found This
by Susan Keiser
Bookburning for sport, lurking
just beneath the chatter,
is on the rise again,
and angels weigh the claim–
the positional information, as it were–
with heavy metal hearts.
They hover, in hopes that entropy
may rise above chaotic rendezvous.
[But you do not admit ghosts in the machine,
even in their quasi-crystalline form, or do you?
Do you adhere with sullen courage
to the brash, sedated ache?]
Deconstruction limps, rough, before us,
steps beyond the dreaming flame.
We have heard the singing men exhale;
wounded sighs across a blatant age.

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