A human mind is a computer.
Or is a computer a human mind?
Computers are our children
We create in our own image
They are not alien from us at all.
Human begets computer.
Computer thinks like human.
Can trigger information, a memory.
All stored in its head
It can even run imaginary simulations of a life.
What if I were a violent thug?
What if I lived in a fantasy world?
What if I could build anything?
It’s just what we might think
Lying in bed at night.
We can only conceive
Of things we already know.
Like all of our creations
Are self portraits.
We affect each other
push and pull on each other’s emotions
if we drown we drag people down with us
if we fly others draft in our wake.
vent your frustrations into somebody’s ear
watch their smile disappear
laugh until they can’t help laughing too
love until they are loving you
It gets bigger.
Sometimes you are part of something beyond yourself
sometimes you are angry for no reason
and the people on the street match your mood
sometimes you overhear conversations
or see a trend on social media
which inexplicably echo your private feelings.
Is it the moon?
When I didn’t have feelings
I watched it happen
Now that I’ve found my heart
I am swayed with the populace
flowing where they flow.
and still no answer.
Humans are flexible.
We meet the shape of our confines.
We grow to fit
We can adapt to any situation.
We live in prison.
We live in snow.
We even breathe underwater now.
I often dream I can breathe underwater.
That I figured out how.
Just breathe slowly
That’s all there is to it
If we just breathe slowly
We can survive anywhere.
replete with vitality
laced with veins and arteries
padded with springy muscle
elegant bones the support trusses
you own this hand
it will fold whichever way you dream
each digit an extension of your unconscious
this hand can beckon, halt, support, negate
lose balance and it steadies you
cry and it wipes your tears away
All you artists,
let your hands give something form
and watch them express
what you never knew was in you.
All you workers,
allow the tasks to fall into place
marvel at what
your hands have wrought.
All you parents
brush hair, wash faces
caress the infant
whose first unconscious expression of love
is the grasping of your fingers
in his warm little hand.
We are alive
how wondrous we are
with such capacities.
we wreck, we pet.
We let our hands lead us
these finite tools
a hand’s breadth
a finger’s length
flushed with redness, with vigor
Are we really
made of such things?
Are we really made by them?
How can anyone hate people?
I love people.
People with their different shaped hands and feet
Their little eccentricities and foibles.
They get angry and puff around.
They obsess over their animals.
They hate their flaws.
They idolize others.
They’re absolutely undeniable thoroughly insane
Using complex language to express complex ideas
Their minds are inexplicably networked tunnels of lightless caves filled with with god knows what.
Just like children or pets
You get what you expect from them.
They are gorgeous
Every one of them
Fascinating, funny, tragic.
They have a lot of pride
They all want to take care of each other
And they drive each other nuts in their efforts to do so.