Song of Ourselves
[After Walt Whitman]
We textile artists working electronic looms, weaving image, thought,
threads of family and friends into shimmering tapestry.
We indestructible exhibitionists, living each real-time experience
for proper phrase to caption uneasy photo.
We the perpetual life of the party, uploading comedic clips,
offering ironic response.
We worshippers without congregation, singing in righteous choir.
We occasional travelers posting photos of birds and mountains.
We perpetual tourists blogging all meals and rest stops.
Each of us clicking, toggling, searching, and sending.
Each of us fragile snowflakes, suspended in sturdy drift of audience.
Each of us curious islands, awash in tremendous minutiae.
Each of us pilgrims, exploring the vast land
without benefit of map.
Micki Blenkush works as a social worker and lives in St. Cloud, Minnesota with her husband and daughter. Her writing has appeared in Nota Bene; An Anthology of Central Minnesota Writers, and in Crossings’ Poet-Artists Collaboration XIII. One of her poems was selected for St. Cloud’s 2013 Poetry in Sidewalks contest and is now immortalized in cement.