(with apologies to Langston Hughes)
I’ve known rivers:
Zbroaiek;ltst.
I’ve gotten wet in ancient rivers, older than the
flow of gigabytes in a;lksklvcioewkl.
My hard drive has grown fragmented like the rivers.
I saved documents in the Euphrates when kj;lsfd;a;sd.
I built my spreadsheets near the Congo and it lulled me to saf;dkzvio.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the power cords above it.
I streaming-downloaded the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and ;lkalmvzcxoiv;jlkqmf;oisdnlkgvakldsv;oamklsd.
I’ve known rivers:
Ancient, dusky z;jkvm.
My programming has grown ;lmkqeoivjhz;lkv’asduogqnrwkfv;qlkwmer like the rivers.
Katelyn Sack is a writer, musician, and painter currently residing in Charlottesville. Her art has been displayed in numerous venues, and her writing has appeared or is pending publication in Timothy McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, The Science Creative Quarterly, and Opium Magazine. She would like a book deal, please.