Sonnet: White Noise Puppets and Their Puppeteers
by John Kendall Hawkins
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I cry out to heaven, been here before. I know:
These are days of comedownance, bass thumbs thrum away
to celebrate the encirclement, shadows play
on dissolving walls where licking flames loathe to go.
I wonder how I can maintain my equipoise
when all I thought I knew hits the vanishing point,
and the new magno-electrical forces anoint
the plug-in puppets and the new lords of white noise.
.
I won't get caught changing dark horses in midstream --
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