The Sand Pit (Grid Poem by Clara B. Jones)

The Sand Pit

for Mary Thomas

She bought a pseudroid at auction in Ithaca while Z4F1 waited in the wings.	Neuromorphic Emulation is bound to change the way we think about fashion.	A network is like an ecosystem because it can collapse.
Post-gender bots are selling like hot cakes.	Botness is the new Pinot Noir.	Peter Scholze described “perfectoid spaces” to a group of replicants.
Joe said “machine envy” is the next big thing.	Fembots live in yellow houses while electric cars are sold in Utah.	There is nothing more durable than Technographic Art.
By 2040, the Post-Human will dominate Psychology.	Science is over-rated since all truth is subject to the will of mathematics.	Synths are retooling Nature throughout the Free World.
New Hampshire is the Ubergraph for all red states.	Brooktondale is the most quiet town within twelve miles of Cayuga.	Post-Racial music is Kanye's new craze.

2.

Fundamentally, you want to change your view of Fondazione Prada since the art of pannini is symbolized by Settis' "Serial Classic" depicting a stolid cyborg in Greek pose in the manner of

a god about to enter a temple or a marketplace, receiving grateful sycophants, slaves to myth

and antiquity. Everything depends on cats stalking mice at dusk along the pathway to Cayuga crowded with students marching to Buffalo Street for theater and myth like synths take their place

beside humans, and devices advise the Thought Council—powerful as Helen's face. The young always bow to Beauty though the old favor gold and fame, knowing that their lives depend

on wine and boiled eggs served by servants imported from Chad on ships built in Spain after

the war, before Celant ran the gallery in Ithaca. It was foolish to think that the Thought

Council curated the show, but the Lanthanum sculpture made you obsessed with grotesque objects and furry pets.