encyclopeadic

i've written on transhumanism--the idea that technology will make humanity more than, and ergo no longer, human. i sat at the window yesterday and wondered if glasses, cars on superhighways, and a morning of reading uselessly informative internet biographies make me already far less human than my grandfather.

this creates very awkward questions for poetry, such as, "is poetry dead?" to which my subconscious once wrote, "poetry, as she lay dying..." and perhaps this means that we are no longer human, and poetry really has died, or at least very nearly so.and i wonder if we will miss poems, or humans.