https://files.cargocollective.com/c1167150/IMAGE-17.mp4
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︎︎︎


ANTONIA PONT

Sucked into my floral veins like fresh data

we went blinkered into that forest, lured
by haemophilic figures, night-ploys playing dumb
at the threshold of what we call ‘empirical’
old trees & greyed ‘gorithms, left in the wake of human passing

the way a creature sees: in streams of hyper-
intelligent code, reading our spindly, pointless arcs
of proof, falling like fake-rain, like sprinkler-intel
— you might thereby navigate a frozen night

in dream-dystopias that accumulate
to tell you what you are— but still...
nodes of leaf-ing, real exits, present themselves
& you escape into sideline stains

into viscosities lying beyond the scope
of your registered terminals— Delicious Darling!
I clasp your liquid ribs & your ghost-colours
peel back in a thrill of silent shedding

(dried layers made from all our system errors)
to the wet, magnanimous ground & now! hot
organic thoughts stack up in lines of perfumed binary
— all around: matter to make undisputable fire

we all watched clouds from aeroplanes (in that era)
traversed terrible nights, our lobotomies in full swing
(touching skin pads to rectangular eyes) — I named
close to your face this precise program: scrutinizing

(you were teetering, a tight bud of tears)
I named, refused & brushed its blossom softly off:
mere bruise, then went out (cardiac flight
down cool stairs) to smell the recent snowfall.