( via / via )

December Stillness.

"We don't desire a president, do we?"

#PalindromeByPairs —@anthonyetherin.bsky.social

Christmas reading for SillyPeter.

Thanks.

( via / via )

Eruption from the active region.

Hurdy-Gurdy at the Kozlov Club.

"Syllable-
mole, sea-
coloured, far out
into the unnavigated."

—Paul Celan
(tr. Michael Hamburger) via @kimdorman.bsky.social

Two of yesterday’s skies.

( via / via )

Naturträne.

"Toad looked at the ground. The seeds still did not want to grow. 'What shall I do?' cried Toad. 'These must be the most frightened seeds in the whole world!' "
—@frogandtoadbot.bsky.social

"He wanted to hang a petrified dead cat over the bed, but I put my foot down. I can see the beauty in petrified dead cats, but not over the bed."

"digital golem"

earshrill dark its ache lost
anytime i change climate
pancakes left & perfect
passel of lame airts fnasting
flecks in the sky flicker
flagrant ions as ears vying

Solar flare last night.

( me / via )

Sea of Snares.

"sea of shrines"

blurred indigo ordnance
eerie arroyo plaintext
bricks unimproved— praxis—
the price of rune-carved dice toss
wrapping paper rustles
through rain hallway-lost dollops
snarlwings

Greensleeves.

"A drone, lost, lay, as by a last, lone road." —@anthonyetherin.bsky.social

The Broken Congregation.

( via / via )

Ascenseur pour l'échafaud soundtrack.

"Emit a tale woven one vowel at a time." —@anthonyetherin.bsky.social

objkt portraits: Violet Bond.

jailbreak verse ingested
Jericho wall stump trumpet
iron eerie arroyo
icebergdodo-goaf profile

jerry-rigged smaragd jailbreak
a just world would hold golden
a free world would waylay
whether or not cost fostered

Bodê's illustrations for Space Chantey.

( via / via )

Iron Horse.

   "Journey to Nomen Tuum"

break ground hog wild fire

break down wind up side car jack

strap on ramp up town

house proud flesh pot latch key word

play pen name plate glass pack ice

      (2008)

Sushi 3003.

"Shijo poetry makes wide use of the conventional symbols of the Chinese tradition. ...the Korean poets took them and shaped them to their own purposes, often using them in an ironical way. ...This sort of irony is at the heart of the shijo tradition, and it goes a long way toward defining the Korean sensibility." —Kevin O'Rourke, The Book of Korean Shijo (2002)

"He...visited London as a teenager, where he made sure to drop in at the Bedlam asylum and witnessed three public hangings at Newgate."

( via / me )

"The forward lean creates an inverted pendulum that converts lateral oscillation into forward progress."

"MFAs are a scam. The only writers I trust are autodidacts who worked in a boot-blacking factory because their fathers were sent to debtors' prison" —@johnattridge.bsky.social

The Inhuman Centipede.

"November Night

Listen …
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
And fall"

—Adelaide Crapsey (via @21rosa.bsky.social)

L'Orbrie de Nuit.

( via / via )

Crumb's Kafka.

“The Passion of Squirkle Rebus”

my flicker is the only light
my copy is the real thing
this flurry of unmatched events
reveals a subtle hidden plan

we crave to take our looming place
among the waste and level sands
we dream to fend away the stars
how small we are when Pharaoh sings

(2007)

Too bad about "jailbreak poetry".

“On the dry Laetoli plain of northern Tanzania, Mary Leakey found a trail of hominid footprints. The three barefoot people–likely a short man and woman and child Australopithecus–walked closely together. They walked on moist volcanic tuff and ash. We have a record of those few seconds from a day about 3.6 million years ago–before hominids even chipped stone tools. More ash covered the footprints and hardened like plaster. Ash also preserved the pockmarks of the raindrops that fell beside the three who walked; it was a rainy day. We have almost ninety feet of the three’s steady footprints intact. We do not know where they were going or why. We do not know why the woman paused and turned left, briefly, before continuing. ‘A remote ancestor,’ Leakey said, 'experienced a moment of doubt.’ Possibly they watched the Sadiman volcano erupting, or they took a last look back before they left. We do know we cannot make anything so lasting as these three barefoot ones did.” —Annie Dillard, For the Time Being

"When we have found all the mysteries..."

( via / via )

Rapidly strengthening tornado in central Minnesota.

"Our scholia–the collection of marginal comments culled from centuries of scholarly editing of and commentary on ancient texts–preserve layers of different approaches to Homer."
—Sententiae Antiquae via

Native American Tornado Mythology.

raid eerie arroyo
ramparts vantablack lampshade

"I don’t know what glory there is in being light-skinned descendants of Black people because of resettling in northern climes with weak UV rays."(via @michaelby.bsky.social)

( via / me )

Chess thread.

“FROGPRINCE

Presence had its stay with me,
and even if only for a time
it came in the brief of love–

I used to whisper in her ear’s
idyl. She was so treat, so could.
I mostly was worse. Now

the unkind years of peace
strand me here, where the lamp
studies pain with impunity.

The dust etched in its trance
seems a core the air can’t share,
overwhelming the eye which

itself is plus-sulked with themes
of sight, beyond-borne. Imagine
a lilypad pregnant with eyelids,

lapping the light with its lashes.
Diffused to me the outward lies
as motes to the beam that bears

them. So what I see carries me
somehow, I cannot stand apart
subject and direct observer

though as always I desire to.
I prefer to view than act, and
reflect upon the pond I appear.”

—Bill Knott

The paintings have come to collect. (via feuilleton)

"Radar #palindrome

A Radar #palindromebypairs

Dark Radar #palindromebytriples

A Darker Radar #palindromebyquartets"

—@anthonyetherin.bsky.social

Same behemoth sunspot that Mars rover Perserverance saw from Jezero Crater last week.

( via / via )

From Frankfurt to Fox.

"All parts of the body are erotogenic. Assholes can be trained with whips and kisses, that's elementary. Pricks and cunts have become monstrous! Down with genital imperialism! All flesh can come! Don't you see what we have lost? Why have we abdicated so much pleasure to that which lives in our underwear? Orgasms in the shoulder! Knees going off like firecrackers! Hair in motion! And not only caresses leading us into the nourishing anonymity of the climax, not only sucking and wet tubes, but wind and conversation and a beautiful pair of gloves, fingers blushing! Lost! Lost!" —Beautiful Losers

Hey Ya!

antique holepunch Alpine
enisled drawer to drawer filed as
rooms revolved rovedoors
& ridedonkeys' swerves conquered

you made marplot chapbooks
mistily cast where air goes
as a train tranche crunches
the truthless miles so violent

dots dropped in the snap bin

Gebrauchsgraphik, Jan 1968.

( via / via ☆☆ via )

Fake Book Titles Extravaganza 9.

"Aztec treasure"

smoky rooms · in the run down
warehouse district · words rang
& died dismally · the doors closed

the very streets · evaporated
only mirrors · hold like misers
their dark shapes · with the shabby jazz

in my pocket glass · in my heart the dead
   of this grim tontine

the floor's own smell

"This is the last entry in the blog called Click Opera."

"Yet environmental catastrophe features in late capitalist culture only as a kind of simulacra, its real implications for capitalism too traumatic to be assimiliated into the system." —Capitalist Realism

"...the only area where I could find decor shabby enough to satisfy my craving for patina, which is, finally, character, personality, history, texture."

( via / me )

AI-written articles outnumber human-written.

"looking at illustrated ads in magazines like wow u could have a job doing art at one point. they used to pay people to do illustrations thats crazy. bring that back" —@dirtcupart.bsky.social

"Purity can only be represented in impurity..."

"VOYNICH (Anagrammed Lines)

I encrypt much, to vanish
into such ivy parchment —
in the script many vouch
vaunts no mythic cipher:
The Voynich Manuscript."

—@anthonyetherin.bsky.social

Stronger than Dirt.

( me / via )

Burning sage.

"felching ferch in the Twisted Slippery Years"

before Xmas tourists
tamp the crepe
subfusc noon its stilbfare
stipples crisp
nothing going onward
ogles gap
till gaunt Xmas soldiers
swing their gear

" 'I didn’t have anything, so I stayed up all night scribbling and ended up onstage with Audre Lorde,' Burns recollected. 'I actually got paid $50. I’m the only poet I know who got into the field for money,' she joked."

"   —But you were trying to protect me, weren't you? Oh, F., do you think I can learn to perceive the diamonds of good amongst all the shit?
   —It is all diamond."

—Beautiful Losers

NE limb eruption, likely from the vicinity of region ex 4274.

( me / via )

"While digging through the debris, hoping to find a memory from the past, he discovered one of his musical sheets."

"Cutting out the middleman by inventing a ceiling lightbulb cover that already comes with the dead bugs inside" —@thehyyyype.bsky.social

1940s Arabic & Kurdish Recordings from Baghdad. (via @bruces.bsky.social)

I dream of the beauty of Alzheimer's
in a world that has lasted so long...

to forget how i got there,
to have lost these days.

06 03 91

Excavated Shellac.

( via / still from secret ceremony )

#neography on tumblr.

”Stonewalled (Shakespeare XIV)

The fall of Colossus calls for more than pluck.
Atop the ziggurat astronomy
finds one, two stars. (Three with luck.)
Why do I keep feeling 'quality
of life’ is more than wigs of polliwogs? Tell,
O cranium, where these walls lead, numbing as they wind:
nor do but echoes report from the stopped up well.
Each new day presents me with a find,
a book or a record, yet I hardly derive
sustenance therefrom. My wobbly art
rolls on. Rumorous, the baboons thrive
in spite of mystic blasting. Clouds convert
to muddier clouds, while toads prognosticate
inside thick cornerstones of uncertain date.“

—Zachary Appomattox, A Series of Unfortunate Presidents (2005)

"As I suspect with the Khazars, periods of resurgence in interest and participation are contrived and managed by GAE itself."

“We have passed the moments of crisis: we are now in the era of death and collapse; now we must preach and practice harm reduction, preserve our oral histories, feed and nourish each other, rest and recover, and imagine and build the foundations of new life as this world ends” –@ganjacum

The art of fooling robots (day 120).

( via / via )

One of the greatest noirs, joan is phenomenal especially in the final segment.

“Poems should echo and reecho against each other. They should create resonances. They cannot live alone any more than we can.” —Spicer

Notation.

“What exactly is poetry and what makes a good poem?”

unlike the other silly question that was asked hereabouts recently (“what is the greatest lyric poem in English?”) i don’t think this one is worth answering. formerly, there was an answer for every age & every culture but now there are 500 & the prevailing sense is that each poet decides for himself which criteria to use. the odd thing is, though, that when poets do argue they seem to think they are taking one of two (or, occasionally, three) possible positions. after an hour, if they are smart & somewhat lucky, they will then discover that they don’t even have definitions in common for the words they’ve been using to describe their positions… such is the state of intellectual discourse at the end of the 20c.

1-31-2002 on Eratosphere forum

Auctioning Blake's Tyger.

( via / via )

"The novel’s major theme, a world disenchanted of God (Delillo in Mao II: ‘when the Old God goes, they pray to flies and bottle tops’) is handled in such a heavy-handed manner it’s impossible to imagine how its hand could be heavier, short of restaging the whole novel on the surface of a white dwarf star."

“Farrago

The housings fall so low they graze the ground
And hide our human legs. False legs hang down
Outside. Dance in a horse’s hide for a punctured god.

We killed and roasted one. And now he haunts the air,
Invisible, creates the world again, lights the bright star
And hurls the thunderbolt. His body and his blood

Hurries the harvest. Through the tall grain,
Toward nightfall, these cold tears of his come down like rain,
Spotting and darkening.— I sit in a bar

On Tenth Street writing down these lies
In the worst winter of my life. A damp snow
Falls against the pane. When everything dies

The days all end alike. The sound
Of breaking goes on faintly all around
Outside and inside. Where I go,

The housings fall so low they graze the ground
And hide our human legs. False legs hang down
Outside. Dance in a horse’s hide. Dance in the snow."

—Weldon Kees

Demogorgan Theme (Upside Down).

"a lot of imaginative fiction is actually assuming that incidental and contingent traits of 20th century america are properties of the universe" —@segyges.bsky.social

"Rooney said the ban on Palestine Action under terrorism laws also had far reaching consequences for her as an author and her right to free expression." (via @hyoyoonkang.bsky.social)

( via / me )

We, the Musk Chasers.

"I've been watching a marathon of Murder, She Wrote the last couple days, and now I'm ready to move to Maine." —@kameronhurley.bsky.social

"There is no way of talking about the book without ruining the plot, essentially, unless you don’t talk about the novel at all."

"ROCK HAS NOT LEARNED

Valleys are not aware
Heather and bog-cotton fit themselves
Into their snugness, vision sealed

And faces of people that appear
Moist-eyed, confronting the whole work

With cries that wince out
Just as they shape and tear clear

The whispery husk bones of faces

Are ground into fineness of light
By a weight
And shadowy violence
Of blind skylines revolving dumbly

Ignorant in ignorant air"

—Ted Hughes

Triolet.

( via / via )

Crying like a fire in the sun.

"TV show cookie tie-in"

turdictionary readout
reapply duduk-dark tidings
vibecession vaxx curbside
vor cellophane loafers,
lumpy mustard deerstalker

stamp each verbal cupcake

"The role-playing game is to our century what the novel was to the eighteenth: the social art form epitomizing and evangelizing a new mode of self-creation"

“Let me chop apart
With my bare hands
This blurred forest.”

—Spicer

Stramonium thyglocalate.

( via / via )

Embankment.

“The edges of a mirror have their own song to sing.” —Jack Spicer

"A huge amount of the viral content about American politics and American news on social media is from sock puppet and bot accounts monetized by people in other countries."

"black friday"

bloodletting psalm sidles
silica pouch will parry
in dreamlaced inside-voice
answer fathoms made laden
almost-black mocha mogul
militates trek pill-wandering
hands empty as they happened
to halve the smudge bloodletting lie

American Tune.

( via / via )

Fear of Dreaming.

"smol plague run"

to the sconce skald arson
scoriac absurd verdict
faint hieroglyph haunting
in the hargcube-math target
stilb's albatross circuit
seashore full of cruel edicts

Nice look at the chromatophores.

There’s the timeline in which AI art develops to the point where it rivals that of humans & humans start being influenced by it; & then there’s the timeline where industrial development results in runaway climate disaster & the end of business as usual for the human race–but i would advise any scifi author not to try combining these two different scenarios into one book. It’s too much. Audiences will be confused.

"We’re not only losing trees, we’re losing tree poems that aren’t elegies for trees."

( via / me )

"Now dead, he continues his migration..."

"Cordova's son, Theo, invented a language for the family. ...I remember Astrid explaining it to me like it was yesterday. 'The Russians have sixteen words for love. Our language has twenty.' " —Night Film

"Vanity of Human Wishes" with commentary.

old bookmarks · ribbons to branches tied
not enough trails · did i tear apart
full afternoon · in the elsedim
   two or three words i learned

One of the best sonnets not by shakespeare or millay.

( me / via )

Some Moderan stuff.

poor trencherman patchcord
appalling moth clash pother
the worm turns
the masked rogue needs rescue

rancid to watch fray dancing
the storm warns
bitter shards & botflies
burn praise where the maze wanders

Gilgmesh Sumerian because why not.

"The truth about what happens to us in this world keeps changing. Always. It never stops." —Night Film

"A language without umlauts sounds monotonous..."

( collin creek mall by laura ostteen on fb / via )

"So we stand gazing not at a sequence of events, but a wreckage hurled at our timeline by one algorithmically curated catastrophe after another."

“He picked up the slaughtered, keg-robed earshot.” —Hell of the Cyr

El Topo.

tomorrow's burning wind
   strafes me today
running ever t'ward
tomorrow's burning wind

   midway dark wood
   & gnat cloud dree
tomorrow's burning wind
   strafes me today

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