In the noise of the news
we lose
the signal.
To the flood of the feed
we cede
our selves.
100/365
In the noise of the news
we lose
the signal.
To the flood of the feed
we cede
our selves.
100/365
A version of this poem first appeared on Bluesky. Whispered into the acoustic sensors of the sleeping dreaming android, it prompted the electric sheep to generate one more tomorrow…