We fled east or maybe home
packed photos, but not enough
on my guise. Sometimes I see
I read about its sixth extinction
straining. Time's arrow
we're only here to generate heat,
Like a time machine, he appeared,
Your life has overwhelming importance
Time will say she made heat
DEPRESSION IN THE INTERNET AGE
I accumulate data, aggregate data.
of a larger organism. This is my body:
to and from the office. Most of my fears
When bombs go off, I scroll through
When I mention the bombs, coworkers ask which bombs?
I sign a list of petitions. I forward clips
people speaking very differently.
Whatever great pressure pushes down
to be about clarity. Age wasted on the aged.
These poems center around the Internet as a sort of apocalypse, its creation an immediate shift in the way we navigate the world. For me, a big part of that is the juxtaposition of immediacy and perspective. I've found myself telling intimate stories in broad context—individual experiences cast against a great expanse of time; personal traumas placed beside public tragedies. I'm interested in how the emotional scale of things is so different from the scale of things.