Control
Tunnel vision and di-vision
G.r.o.w.t.h ghosts
When I hear about the survival of the fittest, my bones ache…
Fitness for what? For whom? Where?
The evolutionary jam on my toast has turned sour …
Why do we still imagine evolution as a straight arrow?
What do you and I lose when we confuse “later” with “better”?
What is depleting when we can’t think, feel or experience for ourselves?
Let’s have a piece of wonky fruit instead of this
addictive superiority cardboard we mistook for bread.
Let’s have this wonky fruit together instead
And decolonise our imagination
Stirring my tea
(it’s still warm),
I wonder
What survives because it collaborates?
What adapts because it listens?
What if we were a tide, an improvisation, a chorus?
What if we weren’t the climax but a moment?
What if we moved
