( via / me )

Pilgrimage to Rilke’s grave.

"I went looking for the wild one, the howler, the vatic tramp.
The one for whom the wounded hills are body burns, whose
blood is stained with the old love-wine of poet and Earth –
warrior poet, slinging battle flak out at the static
shattering polite conversations everywhere.

I looked in the anthologies, listening for echoes,
traced for signs in the quarterlies, magazines, best ofs.
I learned it’s been a good year for poetry. Grants and awards
keep coming in. Contests and prizes are proliferating,
the wise grey consensus counsels a return to the classics.

Meanwhile, poor scientist holds extinction
in a palm full of numbers
with nothing but data
to howl with."

--Rob Lewis at Dark Mountain

"As Donald Trump’s second term as President begins, and the political atmosphere for millions of people is one of foreboding, I’ve been rereading Here to Stay: Poetry and Prose from the Undocumented Diaspora." (via @elnorterecuerda.bsky.social)

"merrick 3"

subfusc trek
trickles drabfane
night sundance
narcs my witness

spindly touch
ratchets heartspeech
taillights swell
must brake swartsinge

all the days
to come dally
in this creel
for crazed annals

"We never photocopied and stapled. We always screen-printed (except for one issue that we risographed) and stitched." (via @danielmiller.bsky.social)