Poem
Anne Vegter
Medea 2.0:4
4big is too large
biggy too small
too innocent
you’re no innocent
you’re no pig
you’re smaller
but not that small either
i call you biggy
something poised
between living and being lived
the data:
i’m a real person
i’ve been deployed to render another
even more real
i never predicted
that you’d vote me out
the exit polls didn’t lie:
your election
and its disastrous consequences
in this, biggy, for you:
our big data
we craft a story beforehand
same star sign
same birthdate
children from the holy nights
type archetype
i was flesh-heart
you too
i was deployed to render another
more real
you for you
i didn’t predict
you’d vote me out
when i pull on the threads
of my memory
the entire embroidery
of lies opens up
there was a happy summer day
when you touched on the coincidence of our love
every other woman you said had
had an equal chance of getting you
you forgot that summer day
like you forgot that big data
might accelerate (have accelerated)
the rhythm
of the circulatory system
but fuck the optative mood
a man’s not a witch
© Translation: 2021,
Medea 2.0:4
Medea 2.0:4
4varken is te groot
biggetje te klein
te onschuldig
je bent niet onschuldig
je bent geen varken
je bent kleiner
maar ook weer niet zo klein
ik noem je big
iets dat het midden houdt
tussen leven en geleefd worden
de data:
ik ben een echt persoon
ik ben ingezet om een ander
nog echter te maken
ik had niet zien aankomen
dat je mij eruit zou stemmen
de exitpolls logen niet:
jouw verkiezing
en haar rampzalige gevolgen
hierbij, big, voor jou:
onze grote data
we maken tevoren een verhaal
zelfde sterrenbeeld
zelfde geboortedatum
kinderen uit de heilige nachten
type archetype
ik was vlees-hart
jij ook
ik was ingezet om een ander
echter te maken
jij om jezelf
ik zag niet aankomen
dat je mij eruit zou stemmen
als ik aan de draden
van mijn geheugen trek
valt het borduurwerk
van de leugens open
er was een gelukkige zomerdag
waarop je het toeval van onze liefde raakte
iedere andere vrouw had zei je
toen evenveel kans op jou gemaakt
jij vergat die zomerdag
zoals je big data vergat
die het ritme
van de bloedsomloop
zouden (hadden) kunnen versnellen
maar fuck de optativus
een man is geen heks
© 2020, Anne Vegter
From: Big Data
Publisher: Querido,
From: Big Data
Publisher: Querido,
Poems
Poems of Anne Vegter
Close
Medea 2.0:4
4big is too large
biggy too small
too innocent
you’re no innocent
you’re no pig
you’re smaller
but not that small either
i call you biggy
something poised
between living and being lived
the data:
i’m a real person
i’ve been deployed to render another
even more real
i never predicted
that you’d vote me out
the exit polls didn’t lie:
your election
and its disastrous consequences
in this, biggy, for you:
our big data
we craft a story beforehand
same star sign
same birthdate
children from the holy nights
type archetype
i was flesh-heart
you too
i was deployed to render another
more real
you for you
i didn’t predict
you’d vote me out
when i pull on the threads
of my memory
the entire embroidery
of lies opens up
there was a happy summer day
when you touched on the coincidence of our love
every other woman you said had
had an equal chance of getting you
you forgot that summer day
like you forgot that big data
might accelerate (have accelerated)
the rhythm
of the circulatory system
but fuck the optative mood
a man’s not a witch
© 2021, Anne Vegter
From: Big Data
From: Big Data
Medea 2.0:4
4big is too large
biggy too small
too innocent
you’re no innocent
you’re no pig
you’re smaller
but not that small either
i call you biggy
something poised
between living and being lived
the data:
i’m a real person
i’ve been deployed to render another
even more real
i never predicted
that you’d vote me out
the exit polls didn’t lie:
your election
and its disastrous consequences
in this, biggy, for you:
our big data
we craft a story beforehand
same star sign
same birthdate
children from the holy nights
type archetype
i was flesh-heart
you too
i was deployed to render another
more real
you for you
i didn’t predict
you’d vote me out
when i pull on the threads
of my memory
the entire embroidery
of lies opens up
there was a happy summer day
when you touched on the coincidence of our love
every other woman you said had
had an equal chance of getting you
you forgot that summer day
like you forgot that big data
might accelerate (have accelerated)
the rhythm
of the circulatory system
but fuck the optative mood
a man’s not a witch
© 2021,
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