I A machine enters the forest. The trees, the endorphined air as well as the birds’ circumspection play dead. Until they start intuiting the machine’s curiosity, its authentic verisimilitude, its making note, they will not dare resume as usual. Resigned to it being, in their midst. They reorient, relate-to the [...]
Thanks to Linda for publishing this little lyrical poem of mine at the Wolff Poetry Literary Journal. You can read it here.