23 February 2024
4 December 2024
submitted for the Gwen Harwood Poetry Prize 2025 but not on the short list announced 7 February 2025
when less is less
by just scaling compute
ay, there’s the rubber, the
deepfuckery that perturbs to be
genuinerated, will not
rule the world but disassemble
it in the brains of its beholdeners
they, too, will flail the way at all flesh
deeper into glaring dark
the composite shittified night
gawd help us – to believe for one nanover
that any less could be
more…
the Cartesian cleft
through which we travel to the stars
the web beneath the sea
upon which we creep
the speed of light
splattering our speech
with earthly similitude
deepfakes, wise clouds
the watchers on the hill
lie here o’ertopped, entranced
Saul stands aside, Stephen
does not dodge the stones