Esquisse Exophonique

Cette brume s’entoure autour de nous.

Je sens tissus lointains.

Ces temps tumultueux s'accélèrent.

L’ouragan brumeux de tout changement s'accélère

et je sens tissus lointains.

Le Camp des Saints arrivent  en caravanserai,

la politique génétique, Babylone en spirale.
Parmi l’ouragan brumeux de tout changement

je sens tissus lointains

intemporels s’épanouirent, resplendissants.

It's a seedling factory, not a fun house!

There’s a backdoor in your mind
worth more than any cozy sugar cube.
Dendritic overlays of best fit shoots
don’t have shortcomings of AI or men;
would undermine this Planet of the Apes with victory.
He that clothes Himself with timelessness as
with a garment primed that backdoor in you
as a jeweller sets a stone. If you were
in a seedling factory, what might you do differently
among sneer-snarls, bulge-buzzard eyes, steep stares?
among men’s unmanned mannequins? not wearing clothes?