I get poems delivered to my e-mail inbox daily. Sometimes they're crap. This one I like.

Excerpt:

"You can't jump with a lead foot, can't
anthropomorphize insect anticipation, can't
pixelate postcard nostalgia, can't
trace a boy's tiny hand and call him
king of anything that crosses your path, your past..."

Noah Eli Gordon, "Refresh. Refresh. Refresh."