NOTES TO A YOUNG P-BORG 
It all seemed so appealing the holomonic cities coup-d’etats the anime space rap action poem argument after argument constant verbal sparring a hit television franchise. There were redesigned bodies personality modifications uniform changes plenty of high-kicks & ammunition wars & romance major losses of life large-scale conspiracy destruction in eleven dimensions but it wasn’t enough the last episodes were cut released only on dvd. You’ve failed to pass the dragon gate human brain inside a ruined head on deep sleep mode in the dump it doesn’t matter no gain or loss. Spines command a high price you’re rebuilt from other used parts retractable claws prosthetic links biotech dampeners sealing foam no more constant cyberwear upgrades you scratch your metallic leg absent-mindedly a fly buzzing around the surface of the planet scrap heaps of synthetic waste cloning causes hideous deformities raising an eyebrow painted grey with gold highlights. Bodyguards match the durability of the undead rotter metal zombie bum in perpetual decay authority proved itself incomprehensible power structure upheld by guns nothing to get from standing in the snow nothing discovered just made up imitations the terrible doubt of appearances there is a kind of poetry sublime enough to cease and desist stop and know the known all along I give of it to them that love as I myself am capable of loving.
4 June 2004
Spoken word version from Trashtalking Country.
Copyright © 2005 by Jim Cohn.
Text from Quien Sabe Mountain (Museum of American Poetics Publications).
Copyright © 2004 by Jim Cohn.