if poetry were the spice
of the House Aesthetics

it is the way: modern’d
enforc’d post’ed sur_real’d

cubist rhythm prioritiz’d
in traveling visual song what means

the rebellion lies awaitin’
thrown off metrics measur’d belated

when you miss a beat awkwardly
the tokenators as sentinels

can not probabilitize you
you are free to enter

you are free to flee, free to toll,
or automate imaginator dominance

let the die roll

                   —animasuri’24