We were the midwife to this digital world
memory led to data which eclipsed that of the noun
and verb. We looked to stored programs of sequence.
Read: coded; simulations; quantities, integers.
The speed of memory crudely carries data: our data.
It mingles arithmetic with reason and doubling.
Turning the Non into the Real rephrases power
into something brimming with curiosity. Any
maniac of this world could get it running,
could modestly ascertain that the modern world need
not be more modern. Bread and butter need not be
more than bread and butter. When power sleeps,
change is dreaming in the centrifuge. One curious integer
remembers a cable, a fuse, a fission or a fusion and together
they surf the very capable contents of our calculations.
We get the wide world up and running. We say we are lucky
to be in on it and that we love what the world gives us, but we might
be dressing a monster; impending a language, or programming havoc.
The fault is history’s.
© Umansky 2012
blog of poet, leah umansky 
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