These tiny works are meant to amuse and seduce, to remind us there may have been a time in which poetry was relevant. They are like those pets with limited verbal capacity (parrots, dogs) but endless formal intrigue. They are digital Paul Klees—there are no lines to take for walks anymore, just pixels, pixels arranged in grids. Rimbaud imagined each vowel had its own color, but really any color can be assigned to any letter, though if the individual letters want their word to cohere, they have to be all the same color. Words are stupid, but they make patterns; even lazy, incomplete patterns appear entrancingly intelligent, super-smart. Mesmerizing. But still humble, of course. Tiny, innocent, post-lyrical pets, suitable for roaming freely around one’s home or, if necessary, framed.