The cursor blinks 

Black on a white screen

It has a familiar rhythm in the way it winks

Reminds me of EKG lines on a monitor

Or moving hands on a barometer 

Up, down, level, tick, tock

Like the groundskeeper among the local cemetery rocks 

I drove past that cemetery today

The fence and the grass between it kept me away 

A separation between life and death 

Existence and non 

Like the blinking cursor 

For someone, somewhere, life goes on

We are all servers – of something or someone 

The trees in their cycles 

All those grave sites awaiting revival

The hands nudging the blinking black line 

Everything is just awaiting its time 

Sure, the tomb stones are old 

There is nothing new 

Even all the stories that are tragically true 

Motorists move along like the cursor on the page 

What is the cemetery’s wage?

Each heart beat, each letter that blinks 

No matter the trajectory

Every ship sinks 

Will the cursor ever stop?

The graveyard, though full, hungers still 

Forever heart beats and clock hands and cursors try to get even 

Always blinking, always winking, till we’re no longer outside of Eden