Francis Picabia, "Prostitution universelle (Universal Prostitution)" (1916–17)
It starts with the turn. Her slender edges, the slow
reveal from margin to bombshell, the hormonal
show of the real: whatever it is, you know it’s fucking
hot. I promise, I would do anything to get you off. I am peeling
my skin 4 u. Let’s talk about it: how we fabricate intimacy,
the wet scapes of the world scolded back to rigid, flashy
direction. Don’t
you think every hero must grow
to love their algorithm? Chemical action without consequences,
good feeling, bad feeling—young, dumb, and full of poems! With her long
French tips and how their bodies work. Outsource ur erotics
to the moneymakers. This month, we are proud to be partnering
with Donna Haraway in building a new kind of human-shaped sex robot
who wants to write poems. Would a friend catch the dog-ear, unreadable script, whir of systems, artificially leathered voice—
Hasti. Poet as Cyborg Pornstar. London: The White Review, June 2023.
