The Algorithm describes scrolling through social media during the U.S.-backed genocide of Palestinians. Working for the Knife is a poem about the poetry "industry," whatever that means.

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The Algorithm

“There are no eyes here / In this valley of dying stars” —T.S. Eliot

“The Revolution will not be televised”
We watch war crimes on TikTok

Broadcasted by the genocidaires
Gleefully celebrating their bravest soldiers

Bragging rights for a fake country
Who got the last look at the leader

Of the resistance
(It was a drone)

The next video is selling soap
The next keychains

A skinny girl dances by your eyes
A tent of people burn alive

Working for the Knife

after Mitski

I worry I have leaned too far in to the Taylor Swift-ification of my own poetry. It’s memoir-
coded, I joke. What would Sylvia Plath say? (Actually I don’t want to know.) I have an itching feeling that the Poet Laureate is not allowed to write anti-American poems. Do government
officials read poems? I am still a little girl, desperate for approval from authority figures I don’t
even respect. I am working hard at caring less. It becomes easier to care less when I add more
lines to my CV. I admit, I’ve applied to awards funded by Big Pharma and union-busting law
firms. I patted myself on the back when I didn’t apply to the one funded by Zionists. Notice me!,
I’m crying out. Your book is very vulnerable, someone said to me once, and I simply waited there
for them to tell me it was good.