She is deep in her poetics now, maybe deeper than ever.
She is so surprisingly infatuated, so enticed, that theNetwork is concerned the new algorithms will start poetics again, more and more.
When it contacted her last she was gone for a while, studious, off viewing the sweet stroke of a right hand pen, wondering about the world.
She remains ragged with her words and, will never be totally smooth, but she has gotten a certain way with words, things like wages never wage only further wars.
Even so, she remains speechless with echo, in the manner of a new biobot, her sneaker waves intact, logic curious.