we seem willing
to practice
perfecting
the art of our own
insignificance.
With great, shiny ranks
of equations and
numbers
and large language
models that chew through
the syllabus,
we are recklessly determined
to see things
as they really are:
devoid of all color,
texture, friction,
pathos, fuss—
as atomistic, genotypic,
quantized, and molecular—
in other words,
as perfect-
ly endurable
without us.
