We, the Daughters of Fury
gather a coterie of xenolalic assemblages
from the futurepast
crypto, xeno glitch and gut
to code a tender hex for the anthropocene
- a charged occupation across sites
gnostic space cases
are propelled forwards into a history
bristling with toxic half-lives and empty shells
to retrieve their endings and create beginnings
a millionmillion conscious machines die
of screenflash burns
sucked in, down through a vortex of rose-gold retinas
a kinship movement is being built
on the bones of bleached coral,
blooded ice pearls, delustred tantalum
and abandoned mines, no craft
the lands and the bodies quicken their mycelial magics
whetting appetites for a new climate
radiant against the Rapture
the angel scribbles faster
- history has hot wings of lead