Cooking in the Collective Dough
Forming shapes from loose material, connective tissue broken, using glue to join Feed. “Instagram Feed” — what a funny little confession, a meta-recognition of its own horrifying predilection.
Anadi Mishra
A refracted reflection making rainbows at home,
a thought turned fiction from non-fiction,
little doughnuts shaped from loose dough.
Fragmenting sunshine,
revealing shadows in hiding,
colorfully blind,
unkind in mind.
Beauty hidden,
asphalt born,
small graceful bow,
wear the little crown,
hmm… become home bound.
Winds carrying finality in style,
ready or not,
you are trapped now,
shackled in delight.
Trident tyrant tidal sideshow,
hear this grime note,
drink highball,
cook the fried dough,
baking in high heat,
this insipid commentary will swallow completely,
glazed sprinkled delicacy.
Instagram feed,
this funny anomaly,
collective hyphenated weather pattern,
mirrors learning which rainbows to repeat,
circularly.
Contaminated pollination from we to me,
torrential daisy-chain—
start break-dancing,
insatiable crowd hungers,
circular end’s game.
What a bizarre cultural directive:
become cohesive,
grab with intention,
stay magnetic,
don’t lose the plot,
but stay connected.