Raw, adjective: 2. not having undergone processes of preparing, dressing, finishing, refining, or manufacture


Because the Beats and brooding and Buddhism are all so very much in my mind these days,

and because this little beast of a 4-year-old MacBook, scrapped together with duct tape, keys covered with chocolate, continues to be my humble yet willing window to a world that offers up Fromm and Woolf and Rilke at my fingertips,

and because everyone's hauling around a sleek new iPad, eyes sparkling, distracted at the bar,

and because, well, it just made me smile,

I give you wild-man Gary Snyder's twee little ode.

*

Why I Take Good Care of My Macintosh

Because it broods under its hood like a perched falcon,

Because it jumps like a skittish horse and sometimes throws me,

Because it is poky when cold,

Because plastic is a sad, strong material that is charming to rodents,

Because it is flighty,

Because my mind flies into it through my fingers,

Because it leaps forward and backward, is an endless sniffer and searcher,

Because its keys click like hail on a boulder,

And it winks when it goes out,

And puts word-heaps in hoards for me, dozens of pockets of gold under boulders in streambeds, identical seedpods strong on a vine, or it stores bins of bolts;

And I lose them and find them,

Because whole worlds of writing can be boldly laid out and then highlighted and vanish in a flash at “delete,” so it teaches of impermanence and pain;

And because my computer and me are both brief in this world, both foolish, and we have earthly fates,

Because I have let it move in with me right inside the tent,

And it goes with me out every morning;

We fill up our baskets, get back home,

Feel rich, relax, I throw it a scrap and it hums.

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