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I


Among twenty venture capitalists,


The only moving thing


Was the CEO of the dot-com.


 


II


I was of three minds,


Like an office complex


In which there are three dot-coms.


 


III


The dot-com whirled in the Internet World reception.


It was a small part of the pantomime.


 


IV


A sysadmin and an Apache server


Are one.


A sysadmin and an Apache server


and a dot-com


Are one.


 


V


I do not know which to prefer,


The beauty of inflections


Or the beauty of innuendoes,


The dot-com financial report


Or just after.


 


VI


Designers filled the browser window


With Shockwave animations.


The shadow of the dot-com


Crossed it, to and fro.


The mood


Traced in the pixels


An indecipherable navigation.


 


VII


O thin men of NASDAQ,


Why do you imagine profitability?


Do you not see how the dot-com


Captures the eyeballs


Of the demographic about you?


 


VIII


I know readable content


And lucid, inescapable database access schemes;


But I know, too,


That the dot-com is involved


In what I know.


 


IX


When the dot-com went 404,


It marked the end


Of one of many Web rings.


 


X


At the sight of dot-coms


Flogged by sock puppets


Even the wisest investors


Become slightly childlike.


 


XI


He rode over Redmond


In a glass coach.


Once, a fear pierced him,


In that he mistook


The shadow of his operating platform


For dot-coms.


 


XII


The market is moving.


The dot-com must be flying.


 


XIII


It was evening all afternoon.


It was snowing


And it was going to snow.


The dot-com sat


In the bookmark list.

LA Weekly