Amber One: Forever Amber
[Note to the too-young: Several puns in the following
lines allude to a long-ago torrid and untoward best
seller called Forever Amber.]
Computers are electronics, a word derived from
the Greek "elektron", which means amber --
here we are, stuck to our screens, like bugs
in (forever) amber.
What has electronics to do with amber?
Are electrons translucent yellow beads
(protons are red, neutrons are blue,
electrons are yellow and so are you)?
Or is it because beings have been known
to get stuck in overwhelming electronic flows.
Or because amber is easily charged up by friction.
The latter, we are taught.
On that basis, if we just discovered electricity
today, we'd probably call it carpetricity
(even easier to charge up) so charge at Carpet City
And what is amber (Remamber amber)? Petrified resin.
Some bug is creeping up a tree (to come up and see
some buggesse), when a droplet of resin rolls
down the bark and drowns him, the sap!, in
fragrant goo. As it hardens, he resins himself
to his fate -- to be cloned from his DNA
on the far far side of Y2K. The amber from which
he's dislodged will crumble to fine sand, useful
for making things go on & on, "forever &"
that is, forever ambersand.
Amber Two: More Than Poetry
Poetry oozes from each line, a clear, sticky
golden resin in search of insect life
to englobe: petrified feelings, ideas, images --
and they look so authentic, so life-like, so well
perserved, even the pink tinge of ancient
borrowed blood in that delicate mosquito abdomen,
for nothing can bleed through amber.
And see how well it takes a polish?
You can buff it to dusty twilight
lucidity and if you caress it with silk,
it will spark at you as if alive, yes,
it's positively electric! But it is forever
amber, the embalmer, not someone
talking to us, not living, but hard
dried-up sap. It's hard to say just what I want
from poetry. I want us to talk to each other,
talk well, but mainly it should be
me talking with you, and, yes, I want poetry
to be more than poetry.