Somatic Feedback Machine

A somatic poetry tool, using the body in space to navigate a mobile site that writes site-specific poetry. The site is hosted on a local server housed at 1156 Chapel Street in New Haven, CT. Access the mobile site (in Safari) at https://localhosts.place/~cat/somatic.








When the site is at maximum strength in the atrium, the code splices together one line from each of six parts of a site-specific poem about the atrium at Green Hall, which is as follows:



a low hum
a high pitched whirr
trying to to locate the source
taking solace
in the convalesce
of peeling polish
and fading pigment
i find myself
wanting to ask
how many fluttering wings
or whistling songs
have gone extinct
i have shaken hands with some of the missed connections
buried in discarded burrito receipts
how far have
the molecules that made up my younger body
traveled without me
some are painted into the stairs
form the impression of strangers’ initials underneath
and hearts now broken
some have become the atmosphere
that supports the birds
and some sing outside my window
teach me how to use a Metric ruler
or measure a page by any formula
there is a spare key patsy kept hidden
that looks at the process in reverse
if i stored my rolled up prints on the radiator
i worry when i leave for the night
would the paper catch fire
as far as you or i know
it has never happened in the time we've been here
yes, there are rodents
they made a home behind the green curtain
where some people are brave enough to nap
under the staircase



necks straining to look
the desperate heat of arms raised too long
wishing to be called upon to speak
reaching
stretching
straining
floating like an iceberg toward a deadline
a vibrating alert
of how i felt before the internet
rotates my phone in ten degree increments
to uncurl my spine to its fullest extent
homeostatic comforts
and neutral fluid flows
grounded in naïveté
badgering thank yous
today my eyes have nothing to say
microwaved leftovers question last night's dinner
my hands between a sterile foam
before i eat
after i arrive
only vulnerable ankles
asking for the air conditioning to stop
the tunnels of drinking straws
giving their air
swallowed you until i could hear you think
with the quivering nausea of uncertain timeframes
the hush of next year’s forgotten seeds
scuffed by heels grinding progress to a halt
to long for
to hope for
ringing ears
hot with cognition
mounting fluid pressure
a flood of awareness rushing to my head
the cold density pierces my cheek
plastic warnings point toward the floor



with only 12 megapixel vision
a window opens to
a faraway interior
undo my writing
cancel
save page as
report broken
incognito looking
through cracked glass
the orange glow of the evening
the harsh blue glow of 6 hours sleep
i wish i had saved before i closed
all you have to do is look at my history
in other words
accidentally opening yet another window
zoom to fit all their thoughts into my container
what you are searching for is not found
hook your password onto my keychain
are you sure
and on 20% power
i made a mosaic from tiled thumbnails
into an irregular grid
with uneasy guides
almost anyone has a charger i can borrow
but i don't know which outlet is mine
click click
projector power is on
but since i need a different adapter from everyone else
i lent a long-ish iPhone cable
whether it will be returned does not matter
live streaming progress to peers
unlock your caps
to speak enough text to fill the room
speak through system fonts
and incessant two-step verification dances
boot me off all of my most valued connections



through a crisp crunch of fluorescent air
whistling past our collective ear canal
looking through
looking two, or three, years into the future
will that be enough time to grow?
building a world through experience and luck
the arriving coats of smell
hug my nostrils
signaling an abrupt change of weather
suddenly, "ssssrsrsrsrrrrsssttttttt"
a metal blade runs across
separating yours from mine
as black tape boundaries map space
ainsley teaches spointing
andrew gave me a different nickname
coated paper cautions no one
hot rollers bubble in full-bleed images
as whispers gather in 107
across from cybernetic desire
it will be warmer inside when the leaves drop
as hot air takes a slow walk
through rectangular passageways
was the flat tire forgotten by a graduate?
hannah's bike pump might help
looking through locked vitrines
or nontsi's window
to stop
to rest
to watch
15 black bins
but only 7 blue bins
bins emptied daily, even if practically empty
mean others are working when i'm sleeping
until the night crew turns off the vacuum
the instant, though, is marked by my triangular flag
an unknown stack, free for the taking



an aftertaste of critique
awoke a new learning path
stirred a desire for stillness
an imaginary posture for sitting
a twelve minute nap
in siri's armchair
two blocks west and one block north
depending on which home i’m coming from
to keep one from falling
pieces of grit shaped into a procession of steps
and overlook the last green leaf of the semester
ascend from the sidewalks
and catch quick doors
unlocked with cards
mildew water sits untouched today
those who drink tea have it upstairs
and the hellos how are yous
that flow upstream
leaning on the handrails of intuition
punctuated by a reminder of the time
from beaks i understand
and some i don't understand
a mostly metallic fabric squeals to be cut
not on the first floor
but on the mezzanine
there are two ways to descend secretly
the closer to the corners, the more withered
swing with the color yellow around my shoulder
i care about you in the hallway, out there
an announcement echoes from the blue tiled pool
from two weeks in the future
yet still i forget
to contain the radiation of fluorescence
a long-gone four square game
wonders why the southside is so faded
or how the clocks toll their engines



we give power to such non-significant things
an alive myth, according to avery
cleansing the sonic interior
watering indoor cigarette butt flowers
synthetic silk holds a pixelated image of
at the center
a gifted gradient
toward julio's soft desk
circulating due dates
a thin film of apple skin
dilating pupils adjust
to changing conditions
cut through horizontal beams
giving a push
i look when no one is looking
each time it's stepped on
the corner of daylight and shadow
i usually say something
an unknown friend gave me
laboring in the margins, upstairs
a public private place
diagonal smoke smells
around a would-be basketball court
forms a primordial barrier around
a modicum of plastic coating
through ainsley's social curtain
crumpled paper shreds insulate
a guillotine arm swings
library books make laps around the track
and wade through temporary students’ fingers
a soft hammer could be a pillow
or a cord that extends from here to the midpoint
a blueprint for drying flowers
or for eating and drinking books
my illogic is my internal logic
a parked car looks on from across its window