Michelle Taransky, j/j hastain, Travis Macdonald & Joseph Cooper
We dressed our thoughts in leafy loincloths,
distributed heavy leaflets,
imitation opals and rhinestones.
Remember the softwood.
I am trying to remind you that it is still raining.
I am wearing an overcoat with a tiny robot in the pocket.
I am whispering the moist words we both know to be wrong:
"I want your robot to do to me to make me due."
we chose it
with votes discounted to the dollar bin
with notes and nodes and tamarinds.
This matter can be neither cremated nor destored.
He is afraid. What now?
He is imbued as he becomes she...