The Pit

Poem by John Stuart Dorn. There was a man here once.

by: John Stuart Dorn 

There was a man here once,

In this space,

In this place,

Where now lies only a pit, a hole into which is cast the moans and groans of dead things.

The eyes of what was once a man focus on colored diodes, a forgery of meaning. Small magnets nestled within disposable silicone and plastic shells vibrate, reverberating a hollow mockery of what flesh effortlessly renders.

That which was once a man,

In this space,

In this place,

Contemplates the simulation of meaning before him. Deep within the pit a gnashing beast rises upon it's hind legs, claws straining towards the brim, pawing for a scrap.

Photons flash, upon the air ride waves of sound. The pit, the hole, is filled. Men of old learned to use their imagination like mortar, to bind the stones of reality together, to imprint order upon chaos and to slay the darkness. This progeny of those who were men lusts after the lie that diodes and magnets tell. Tension gives was to numbness. The beast slumbers.

There was a man here once,

In this space,

In this place,

Yet empty the pit still remains.