Poetry. Ever have a line from a song stick in your head? What
happens when you let it take off on its own? The product of many
two-hour late- night commutes, MACHINES WE HAVE BUILT yields the
poetic detritus left after a full day, when the need to stay awake
and the longing to get home are paramount. Each prose poem in
MACHINES WE HAVE BUILT is a riff into what occurs when language is
allowed to devour itself and where metaphor splices into metaphor,
forming a domain where literal language becomes entirely
figurative, where fashioning these language constructs
simultaneously frees and imprisons us, making us both forget--and
be all too aware--that the mind is a device that builds and
destroys what we call real.
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