Fingertips
I’ve come untethered
Three days lost and out of sorts
Now the correction
Sitting on the train
The snow blows blinding outside
Heavy wet and sad
The Wailers’ singles in my ears
Provide the syncopation
Propelling the day
On the balcony
In yellow afternoon light
A thrush in the snow
Pink skies cede to blue
Melted snow transformed to ice
Anticipation
PWest, the dream maker bicycles
For all ages a unique mile
On fingertips
What I’m Reading:
Assigning too much “agency” to these bots leads us to psychologically outsource our judgment, which is a mistake…
— Adam Pryor, AI Consultant / “What a Group of A.I. Agents Talked About as Their Humans Had a Dinner Party” / The New York Times
