Resistance

In the Americas,
never peaceful,
neighbours
in paralysed cities,
dance around each other
and arrive at blows,
words of distance
and dissent;

Smeddum

As if I was ground to dust and my heart still in it,
even with my bones powdered to meal,
my blood dried to a paste and my flesh
in torn strips, dried to pemmican;

I would still drag a smile from this pulled-pork face,
let the half-hearted wind blow my hopeless pieces into piles,
and still feel earthbound energy rise from my grains.

metadata

software parses
motherboards mirror you
sector by sector
passwords protect us

data

the bigger the data
the harder the snow of it
you smother under
     decisions
     not your own
     decisions about you
     and what you will or will not
     consume