Dawn Pankonien
Into political economy. Not into brushing my hair. Sometimes at institutes of art and design in the US. Mostly in Mexico City
Culture Producer (a poem)
Suspended in webs of
microsleep, touchscreens, RAM,
rewrites. Her fingers bled cat’s
cradles on a keyboard:
plush, brushed, but
rubber-coated.
She,
herself had spun.
