Yesterday I bid adieu to my Facebook wall and all the people who live there (for as long as I can, I think).
It felt really interesting to wake up this morning. That strange convolution was no longer tangled up inside my skull, cloaking my brain. What a strange thing not to realize every day for seven years.
So, maybe, it’s back to communicating the way I used to. The poem below is adapted from a letter to a friend I shall miss daily now, because Facebook isn’t bad, it’s just there and it makes using words easier than maybe using them should be.
Thank-you for Making Your Broken-Bird World
(For Nancy Anonymous)
Your land of broken birds is a set of 427 switches So delightfully random yet crafted As if out of scented wax, feathers, Star crusts and weed flowers. The effect of reading them is the same Effect you'd get in a deep forest When you find a lever on a tree That you click up and down really fast To the point where you don't know if it's Your eyes fluttering open and shut, or The whole world is flickering and you're The only one that notices Anymore/anyway Because, of course, the biggest problem In life is getting so used to things that go On and off people take them for granted Or let them become boring, like love, it seems now, Which is why I stand with my hand on the lever Tonight And why your work is so important. This is what you have called A Broken-Bird World. Right?
Also published on Medium.