Poem: First Breath; or, Cubicle

“First Breath; or, Cubicle”
by Bill Ward
1999

Sitting alone in a cubicle
One of many, all alike
Walls of cloth and steel
Enclosing my universe

The computer screen flickers,
Illuminating my little world,
The whirring of computer fans
The only sound.

Assembling electrons,
Arranging phosphorescent dots,
Building, shaping, creating
Structure from the void.

The body does not matter.
I do not eat, I am not hungry.
I do not rest, I am not tired.
I do not cease my concentration –
    Haven’t used the bathroom all day.

Time is stopped, yet races on
My mind abuzz with ideas.
A form takes shape, yet has no shape
My program – my art – is breathing
    Its virtual
        First breath.

© 1999 William R. Ward
All Rights Reserved
November 1, 1999

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