Poetry by Zoë Hitzig

Zero-Regret Algorithm


Fieldnotes

and what of the sun
     how it continues to sear
     to throw to shape to shadow
and what of the sun
     how it built each pixel
     in each eye builds each
     eye and the hands that meet
and what of the sun
     how it cast these hands
     and the seizure of sense
     between hands that meet
     to clasp a shared cache
     a face without margin
and what of the sun
     when the airplane meets
     its shadow above sea
     above whitecaps that curl
     and flip and form and fit
     moments before horizon
     movement itself a terminal
     arrows force arrows force
         and what of the hands
         and what of the hands
     what of the hands
     that meet to say
     we are the way the church
     holds its music we are
     the brief soak of silence
     when the powerlines
     in a storm went down
     the music stopped
and what of the sun
     if the quiver-sharp
     valley like a church
     could hold its music
         then would we still
     unravel the fractal
     wardens of will
         then would we still
         then would we still
         then would we still


Simplex Algorithm

am
I
the
snake
am
I
the
meth
am
I
the
bone
neck
lace
am
I
the
save
curve
or
the
dread
curve
or
just
the
find
arg
min
arg
max
curve
am
I
the
line
that
creeps
to
break
to
bound
as
cain
made
seth
as
nod
was
found
I
lord
I
fall
I
find
I
climb
I
max
I
min
I
am
the
wren
that
metes
the
dawn



Zoë Hitzig is the author of Not Us Now (Changes, 2024), winner of the Changes Book Prize, and Mezzanine (Ecco, 2020). She currently serves as poetry editor of The Drift.

Instagram and X: @zhitzig