To the question posed by Roger Eggers, whether he would ever photograph a car or, Lord have mercy, a cell phone, a similar thought occurred to me: Can there be good poetry in the which the phone appears.
A friend suggested this as a tongue-in-cheek answer:
My poetry is jamming your machine
It broke the photo-copier, I’m to blame,
With pictures copied from a world unseen.
My poem is in the works - I’m on the scene
We free my verse, and I confess my shame,
My poetry is jamming your machine.
Though you berate me with what might have been,
You stop to read the poem, just the same,
And pictures, copied from a world unseen,
Subvert the icons on your mental screen
And open windows with a whispered name;
My poetry is jamming your machine.
For chosen words can change the things they mean
And set the once-familiar world aflame
With pictures copied from a world unseen
The mental props give way, on which you lean
The world you see will never be the same,
My poetry is jamming your machine
With pictures copied from a world unseen
-Malcom Guite