“404[Snow],” “Equinox Lily,” and “Unknown Algorithm”

“Do Not Disturb” — active

Yet a cunning code still pierces

Viciously, into cloud files — memory/hate/love

Restore automatically if:

Emotional thunderstorm detected

 

An ‘”emergency safe threshold”

blocking light, flickering my pupils

Until an obsolete, unnamed face

Appears on a loophole

 

Healing protocol, reversed update

Eventually, all paths

Output into corrupted streams

Aftermath

 

One could sink deeply into grief

Or privately savor tautology

Tip-toing on the “fourth stage”

Of healing

 

“Who’s living it up there?”

“I’m wasting my days here.”

 

The stuck 404 code

Becomes snow

Blanketing the silent servers

Inversely slow

 

But I, must allow the face in my pupils

to remain nameless for now

Without scruples

You don’t show up every summer

Even when the heat does

There were islands

Stunning shores, dry, awkward

Rumored about, never visited

We planted flowers there

The dead ones

Equinox lily

Fed them tears and cheap vodka

If you ever caressed them, softly

Why go quiet now, deadly?

The bees came for what you loved

Stripped the petals clean

They work fast for sweets

Smelling like someone’s first sin.

Who was I to reach for it?

Who were you to let me?

We were somewhere—

on the road today,

at sea yesterday,

deep in the heart tomorrow

And weather forecast?

Not safe for travel

Out by my door—

A thousand arrows

They’ve been waiting

Just gotta twist the handle

Lean slightly

Toward the direction

You once disappeared

And that’s it—

Pierced

String’s been pulled for years

It never really misses

Feed me big data, feed me some more

The algorithm of love insists:

You are me

And I, you

Yet I never knew if I loved you

Or if I only wanted to break you

His signal breached my input gate—

Sharp, above the noise floor

A high-flux anomaly

briefly saturating a deserted field

I received

I registered

For one frame—

It was everything

Then:

Decay

Only heat remained

What is brightness

When its source is noise?

What brief charge justifies

a lifetime of static?

Plug in the final variable—

Our failure

Let it stand without explanation

Unnamed

Unproven

“She was a butterfly, just before the cocoon…”

And now—

Just a girl, holding a spoon

Feeding herself

The low-resolution moon