Berry brilliant hues
illuminate our rooms,
bright squares blaring
like prehistoric fruit-
ripe and riotous
tempting protohominids.
Because of this, our autonomic
still craves the vivid;
with glassy eyes,
we watch,
and with muffled ears,
we listen
to burst after burst
of novel information.
Then, we repeat-
regurgitating input like
we’re no more than
our machines, or perhaps
like plumed birds
in the tropics,
empty chirps-
meaningless.
We converse
in contextless verbatim
or poor interpretation.
How can we bear it?
This powering up
and feasting on feed-
a new breed
of imperiled parrots.
pm poetry 