Four abreast on a three-spine path. 
From the mud redirection comes
Expectations for conceptions
For this data webbed packet territory.
the unit of now is shared in itself,
And our digital gravity
Pulls us to the dislocation.
the path-link to tomorrow never ends.
Poster on a post: equally unread
If full or blank. though this blank is lit and
Blinking small verticality – 
Soon filled, now, by boxes rather than blots.
Disseminated feigned impotence of
Influence; misdirection of meaning-
Place. the upturned table may be righted,
But take away a leg? then what? What then?
take away a leg
And they’ll want it to work as normal.
Legless will have always been the way.
So cord the whip
But don’t 
Be me.
I could do nothing.
I could be nothing.
Not-I becoming virtual

By William Shier

This poem is a response to hardtruth #2: