8-Bit, by Jess Smith


When I was born I saw the world in 8-bit,
nothing rounded as smoothly as mother promised,
nothing as defined as binary,
seams were lost in low definition
as colors ran into each other, sunsets
made of building blocks, each with letters
of our names carved upon them;
we had to sculpt them into skyscrapers,
make them giants just to tell
ourselves apart.

Spacebars told us we could only jump so high,
keys that once unlocked only moved in four directions,
data limits limited levels we could reach; we became
masters of deleting our pasts to craft our futures
in hopes we would reach ranks high enough to fly from,
even though our landing strip was just the sound of static.

Time defines as well as freshly sharpened pencils,
that reek of burning bark and molten lead:
smells defining the future for a generation of
8-bit babies.


What did you think? Jess Smith is a brilliant new poet and performer hitting her stride in Edinburgh at the moment. I’d recommend checking out her blog via the link below, for more awesome, striking poetry:


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