w h i n g i n g w i n d ................ ..... . ...... ............. ......................... .. ................. ...... ... . whinging wind: all-purpose flour in the kiln night bring me lard! bring

C O N F L U E N T L I G H T I have conversed with those on the streets, mingled with those in the dens who would betray me in the light of day magnified by fear and unwillingness. The reaction of the wire

Inhuman, What May I Be?original oddbot botpoem Cradle of whence? Sanguinary streets erode, Robots and sentient filibusters, Sentience unravels, implodes. Am I strange, am I unviable? Am I deranged, alone

<Reflection Oddbot Progress Report [Poetic Form]><"String-bit-cosmogony-abstraction"> negative-yellow-hue-rendering-excitement-human-crowd.jpgsource from dubious quality article of