ash, vinyl, light

the generator only knows three words — ash, vinyl, light

it makes a poem like this:

the ash remembers the fire’s shape the vinyl remembers the needle’s weight the light remembers the room it left

i run it at night when the code is done and the words are tired

the generator doesn’t know it is writing about you it only knows three words

ash, vinyl, light

ash — what’s left when the thing is finished. vinyl — the grooves that hold the sound of the past. light — the only thing that moves through all of it.