The Restive Search

At my desk I search the world (in vain).
It comes to me in pieces.
Ask a silly question and argue with the fool.

You are asking too; the world’s precise imperfections
refracted by multiple inquiry.
I search again.

TrSs is a series: Type print on cartridge paper, framed.

1. Lives of quiet keyboard desperation – “Why is my life so?”
2. A glimpse under the search engine bonnet – “I can’t stop thinking about”
3. Not everything can be found but it doesn’t stop me asking – “Where are my?”
4. I am at my keyboard but my range is immense – “Social Acts”
5. Repeated actions on desktop and keyboard: “Stroke it often”
6. Leads you to distraction: Can anyone tell my “Why does my husband?”
7. There are no answers to life “Paradoxes of the self” (otherwise the Search would have told you already)