Saturday, June 3, 2017



They shuffle past, eyes closed,
somehow avoiding curb- and light-pole mishaps;
the last notes in abandoned journals
all refer to “The Singularity;”
are they dreaming a shared nirvana?
Will survivors notice attrition by starvation?
One stumbles, falls, doesn’t move again,
other trudgers pay no heed,
moving unsteadily but without cease;
their travels seem brownian,
evince no regularity or purpose.
I keep expecting some manifestation,
some intrusion into the world,
justification of the term Singularity,
not just these empty shells.

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