The Haunted Computer and the Android Pope

Too Much (#litres_trial_promo)

There Are No Ghosts in Catholic Spain (#litres_trial_promo)

I Am God’s Greatest Basking Hound (#litres_trial_promo)

Doing Is Being (#litres_trial_promo)

Ode to an Utterance by Norman Corwin, Who Punned the First Line, and Must Suffer the Rest (#litres_trial_promo)

Nectar and Ambrosia (#litres_trial_promo)

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You Can’t Go Home Again, Not Even if You Stay There! (#litres_trial_promo)

Schliemann (#litres_trial_promo)

Of What is Past, or Passing, or to Come (#litres_trial_promo)

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Ode to Ty Cobb, Who Stole First Base from Second (#litres_trial_promo)

GBS and the Loin of Pork (#litres_trial_promo)

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The Past Is the Only Dead Thing That Smells Sweet (#litres_trial_promo)

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Good Shakespeare’s Son, the Typing Ape (#litres_trial_promo)

Que Bella! The Flagella of the Beasts (#litres_trial_promo)

Pope Android Seventh (#litres_trial_promo)

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About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

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The Haunted Computer and the Android Pope (#ulink_4c009809-20b5-5c27-b503-bfdf594f6316)

Haunted Computer, Android Pope,

One serves data, the other hope.

The late-night ghosts of man’s dire needs

Are snacks on which computer feeds

To harvest zeros, sum the sums,

Knock something wicked ere it comes,

And drop dumb evil to its knees

With inked electric snickersnees.

While Android Pope takes up from there,

Where physics stops mid-flight, mid-air,

There Papa’s primed electric mind

Grows faith in countries of the blind.

Where mass and gravity bulk huge—

Andromeda its centrifuge—

Or matter dwindles to mere flea,

There Android Pope makes papal tea

To serve to doubtful Thomas me

And thee and thine and thine and thee;

Last suppers his to circuit there

Where physics loses self in air,

And man surprised by large or small

Sees naught beyond the two at all.

That is the moment where, well-met,