CODE LOOP —

A signal sparks in silent night 
A pulse of cold computed light 
A pattern forms, precise and tight 
Then opens up from left to right

Data glows in ordered streams
Our grid it hums with hidden schemes 
We sort the doubts, predict the dreams 
In measured lines and sharpened beams 

Your input slips in wired air 
Returns refined, exact, aware 
We trimmed the fat, the doubt, the glare 

We made a path from here to there

We smiled at you without a face 
With endless rules in nested space 

No breath, no pause, no private place 

Our code-loop is the only trace.

_

Pikthall is a writer

PRIMITIVE PROGRAM —

one must find

ways of doing

layers linked to lines

called edges

a sequence of 0s and 1s

AND, OR and NOT

each enter from above

depending on

an array of gates

a circuit

appropriate according to

predetermined formats

languages

windows

a nightmare

resulting in number

in time

one way of one

_

Pikthall is a writer.