A Memo for the Techno Witches




To my sisters everywhere,

Sometimes in the bleepbloop 

of this day and age,

It's easy to forget
we hail from the dust of the powerful,
the previously disassembled
quieted, pushed away

and set to fire.

As we surf new waves 

technology has broadened our reach:
if we can
take a picture of ourselves in the flowers,
sing how good it feels,
and send it to the world in seconds,
then we can also
remember to recreate
all of our reasons for going on.


We, the leaves of the strongest medicine,
swim the hot water differently now. 


The shift is now.

Time has run out for what's dead in us.
Our bodies remain 

as mirrors of the jungle floor.

The thriving 


fiddlehead curls,

abandoned skins

of selves long gone

serve as reminders of our true nature,

designed to do 

what we've always done:
deliver the future.

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