The Grid

THE GRID: Plugged-in//:

light fantastic, a tale of circuitry or

/story of urban lighting/

through the ages. Starting

from torches to braziers, instigating

gas-lighting and lamplighter onward;

moving on-->

to the ivy sprawl of the electric grid and

imaging it as seen from airplanes, jets thousandfold kilometers soaring in the sky bowl,

like a stiff bunch of silver smoky birds. Breathess sighs:

oh the fantastic lights/

the wondrous beasts/

Lost in Suburbia--

wondering/wandering

where are the stars? Light Pollution on the Grid [refulgent in the insane diamond light,

miniaturized]—but our Hero had never really seen the Stars. Really? well...at all! sure, one or two would poke through faintly the haze of the luminary city duomo planetarium...

but...to soar in stars, be blanketed by stars,

even camping with the Jersey Devil, the crystal of the dread forest of night fulla Wendigos arctic Yeti, someday out in NATUE: different domed planetarium, from remote mountaintops he’d heard tell of, glacial silence: these were a few of his favorite thinks.

However, these were and could be

favorite things that he’d never seen

with his naked eye, not by page or screenturner,

a tube baby, brained in civilian dome-bake.

Although,

he holds to the fruit and not the flower.

In such sweet and dulcet strains of loneliness THE STARS

are bulbous pinpricks

a turning wheel of sky.

That was what he took away from

a visit to the planetarium

[virtual reality

only imaginable under the veil of city light pollution]...