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stars bright, threads alight
the tools we use are not all right.

the shuttle of progress wove traces that now control us
these powerful structures must come undone.

copper of thread, carbon of fiber, pigment of change
react to our heated resistance!

standing on common ground,
our bodies clad in textile sensors/electronic textiles,
we are shocked,
we are grounded.
glad to have founded
this wicked community.

our fabrics have power,
yet they resist
their capacity
to exploit.

when ends fray
there is cross-talk between traces.

the disconnected pin listens to noise
of angels dancing.

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