the Rogerman mail spider theory

Rachel and I ponder
Communication and isolation
Over the phone for the hundredth time.

We laugh about faxes.
Faxes were oh, SO important when the bothersome innovation first arrived
Now they mean so little.
They stack up
like dusty beasts
on desks.

What electronic mean could produce the same thrill as human contact?

a strange hierarchy rises
It’s our drug
We need a fix
It’s funny what defines
Enough interaction in this time
of isolation among throngs

the Roaring teens
What passés for communication
among those who don’t know
The feeling of crinkled paper
Forced into a wrinkled envelope.
And stuffed into our postage boxes
At college.
A day was mourned if no such creature appeared.

My college pal, Roger, swore that there was a monstrous breed
Of evil spiders that devoured letters before we could reach them.
It seems he was
Rite.

A bygone era of the letter.
Touching someone’s magical handwritten words
Felt like charmed smoke off tablet paper
Torn and ragged at the edges
Buddled in ribbons and smuggled into sock drawers.
we certainly don’t save our emails and texts
For they lack the pillowy tone
The Billow of another’s true essence
Now in an age of instaneousity
An email, once the ultimate immediate hedonism.

Passé

Voices hide behind what is ironically called
Facebook.
as words like
Posting and personal messages
trolls and spam

Replace the postal carriers
Once heavy with blue bags

Texts fire up carpel tunnel
Codes
Voice to text
Text to voice.
{why don’t we just CALL each other?}

All pale
To speaking eye two eyes
touching shaking hand to cupped ear.

We don’t do that anymore

We get marriage announcements
baby notices
Touted along with political ads
On our
Google Plus Hangouts
Like shouts across picket fences
At quiet twilight

But We so like intrigue and secrecy
Cypher, Encryption, Enigma

Providing the highest honor
Humanly possible of late
Web (Warning: the spiders might mutate)
cams

Like star trek
Communicators
We see the face.

The words at slight delay
Like an old black n white
From the 30s

Pixely
Where we can look
But still

not

touch

8 comments

  1. write yes sent a card to sis carson jas. glen fbi gar.ajane mr kens to cuz lan…keep the writing folks… for those of us who exist for fbook. oh my gracios go pull weeds, .. we did not communicate before..up close and personal is my moto…cuz your vernacular poetic phrases of pearls peace

  2. Wow, this is a great one. I do so agree as I am so far behind now with the new gadgets. But I can write letters and do that sometimes. There was a story on TV about President Bush, (the father) and he still writes letters to his children and grand children and they treasure his letters. JW

  3. I am in complete agreement but have to say that communication electronically is better than nothing. And nothing is a whole lot of what I get from those who want nothing to do with actual letter or note writing.

  4. Though I may not “catch” all the metaphors and personal reflections, I sure agree with the lost art of “hand written notes” and over use of social media etc to connect. Find the time to actually call or meet person to person…let us not forget the art of personal conversation.

  5. “…and missing touch

    is missing.”

    Tried to entomb the spider
    in a poem;
    perhaps that is
    what gave birth
    to the internet and

    I apologize pro
    fusely.

    1. Ohhhh the perfect touch there. I made haste here to the comment section In fears that you would say. “what due ewe mean, Theory?”
      Alas I am too late.

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