imagine sitting in a room
with one hundred women
weaving the internet &
unweaving its alien mask
would the web hold us
differently could the web
bring us warmth not
yet imagined
these are poems for opening the web
these are poems for helping the user take control
the web it pushes and pins
their love into something else’s stomach
these are poems for all of the users
the smallest of users the quietest
and most ignorant of users
whose use is used to grow the
mighty screen which
coats the world
and keeps our eyes
from meeting
these are poems for beginners
they will not try at beauty
they are hardly even poems
just warm and urgent invitations
to take part of what is closed in
darkness needing the
tilling of every last user
to fruit its joy
is everyone’s
the expert and the novice must sit down
and learn how to be very close
deeply caring for one another
as their true fate
forking is
when you take
how someone made
the world and
modify it for
your own
purpose
it is a liberty
that expresses
the fact that
human beings
can neither
fully anticipate nor
dictate
the needs of
others
those who
would are
tyrants depriving
even themselves
from whom
they know not
yet they
are
what is the web? you know this already
but on a test or in front of the expert?
tell us, what is the web. do not stutter
be confident for your experience is truth
even if you do not have the technical language even if
it makes you ramble or say nothing at all. if you have
felt the web as a heartthrob or madness then
this the expert must learn. wideness and narrowness
must tickle each other. and you must
be changed by the way you change the
expert. neither poems nor facts are
anything, but the world
coming into being
what is the web? it is our togetherness. it is
what we make eye contact with regardless. it is
fraught with hostile design. with our many eyes
and many hands and many hearts we must weed,
and we must imagine, and learn anew
how we want to touch