( via / me )

Tanka.

aim ceramic apple
ain't no sunshine scrunchies
   atlas of losers
gosvranyo of frassfire
afraid hues on radar
   frigidaire wonky
& it's tharnwork worn out
weather to drudge grudgeserve
   wispforest trekking
   withering apple
   written with sheer cleats

A Shared Sense of Purpose.

Student Days.

( via / via )

The Maastricht Hours.

“Everything including dreams is meteorological.” –R A Lafferty

Primordial Deep Time.

veneratingly rued
wranglers of the vouchsafe-vine—
wendings we might wish them rid
gild their elf putty, even

Vranyo.

( via / via )

Oranj Album.

"The Higher Throw Weight"

tree answers tree · in chittering waves
fading from one · to revv at another,
the final buzz lapped · by the ascendant.

like leaping fire · the cry carries.
seventeen years' · dark-hoard, bursts
out of each emerald thorax · clenched on a twig.

shuddering with impatience · they fly when they must:
a dull careen · to the better outpost...
and their brief grim grapple · this season's for?

to scatter one further · generation
of crunchy casings · among the branches;
more dreamless gray grubs · in shallow silos.

God Reasons.

"Faith, I would string my lute
With hangman's hemp, if it made music."

--The Roman

Ali Baba.

( via / via )

99 years ago in Guatemala.

“Listen, you money-plated bastards. When I shout love, I mean your destruction.”
- Milton Acorn via @jacobwren.bsky.social

Shell.

"i too do not like a party too childreny

I too do not like a party

Too childreny

Because then I think

How many will my witch eat

And will she be too bloated

When the sponge of passion

Fruit and lemon cream

Is hoisted up the altar

With its crown of fire

Obviously there are more seriousy problems

When a party is childreny

The drinking songs are all fucking wrong

The slippers shrink and my foot

Must be crammed like walnut meat

The virgin sacrifice is poorly received

My witch eats her weight in feelings

I drown my sandwich in donkeys blood

All that rich food

None of my bottoms fit right

I must walk about nakedly twelve days

The children laugh and rub a butter on me

They believe a body like me

Will not happen to them

O but they have tasted the cursed food

The costco sheetcake

Fit for a mormon family reunion

The costco chickenbake

With the blood of a caesar dressing

We jump into the air in unison

When we land the earth ruptures darkly

The blind honey of a melon"

—Kiik Araki-Kawaguchi in Electric Literature

"The memory of violence pollutes the city’s air like plumes of stale tobacco, ebbing and flowing with the zephyrs off the Bosphorus."

( via / me )

"The irony of a resource-extraction conglomerate funding a movie about the sins of American oil imperialism was hardly lost on Friedkin, who planted a Gulf and Western corporate photo in a crucial scene, causing one executive to have, in Green’s words, 'a shit hemorrhage'."

"Antimatter

Particles of evil ‧ live in the dispersive
night of the wolf, flow in its nothingness,
fragment as their sleep ‧ peels off in slender
flakes of time, emit shreds of flesh
like a quantum leper, repel our light
with waves of mood, doom everything that matters."

—Pedro Poitevin

Emma Peel Departs.

"SONG (Anagram-Haiku)

Deep moonlight reveals
the older poems leaving
me, their pale song loved."

--@anthonyetherin.bsky.social

All Along the Watchtower.