( me / via )

Coronal mass ejection towards Earth.

"We are compelled to imagine our own world as a set of eerie traces." —The Weird and the Eerie

Solar Filament (AIA 171) 2-7-11.

bigly monstrous maggot
ten sharks will shed tears for
the world waits to boot this
witless gaseous terr'rist

bigly monstrous maggot
ten sharks will shed tears for
all day i deal smiling
deadeye: goodbye, cowpie

bigly monstrous maggot
ten sharks will shed tears for
ever we learn lovetruth
lacks in irksome toxin?

bigly monstrous maggot
ten sharks will shed tears for

Dirgewhinny.

( via / via )

Modern day Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

“To the Etruscan Poets

Dream fluently, still brothers, who when young
Took with your mothers’ milk the mother tongue.

In which pure matrix, joining world and mind,
You strove to leave some line of verse behind

Like a fresh track across a field of snow,
Not reckoning that all could melt and go.”

—Richard Wilbur

"I have drained the rich cup..."

“ 'I am not an ogress.'
'Well, you are rather. That is why I feel it my duty to come between the two of you.' " —@ivycomptonburnett.bsky.social

Etymonarchical.

( Secret Ceremony [1968] / ditto )

Crystal Worlds.

"Using FOX News to support your argument is like claiming you’re a marine biologist because you watch SpongeBob." —@kojamf.bsky.social

Elizabeth Taylor's Strangest Flops. (thx Melanie!)

   a mud-spattered truck
pulls up beside me. i think,
   inside i’m like that:

i carry a bit of all
the roads i’ve ever been on.

Down in the Wood.

( via / via )

Bohemian Rhapsody.

"AND THE FALCON CAME

The gunmetal feathers
Of would not be put aside, would not falter.

The wing knuckles
Of dividing the mountain, of hurling the world away behind him.

With the bullet brow
Of burying himself headfirst and ahead
Of his delicate bones, into the target
Collision.

The talons
Of a first, last, single blow
Of grasping complete the crux of rays.

With the tooled bill
Of plucking out the ghost
And feeding it to his eye flame

Of stripping down the loose, hot flutter of earth
To its component parts
For the reconstitution of Falcon.

With the eye
Of explosion of Falcon."

--Ted Hughes

Tigger mopes.

"we won’t even be able to piss on his grave because he was into that" —@kellylink.bsky.social

Reading the news.

( via / me )

Occult image with chessboard.

"Gonna bathe in pumpkin spice body wash, then have some pumpkin spice cereal, then get a pumpkin spice flu shot, then a pumpkin spice oil change, then" —@prufrockluvsong.bsky.social

Behind the Trees.

"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

Confession of a reviewer.

( me / via )

"As an added feature, unbeknownst to anybody, both Ford and Scott were in the audience, watching the audience’s reaction."

streetlight chain goes dark
in some inbetween hour
forever to cheer

to think back on it later
however dire the present

Music for hope.

"Remember how if a kid choked on a little plastic toy they used to stop selling the toy" —@kathbarbadoro.bsky.social

Gatewasy to angels.

( via / via )

Ducks in their secret garden pool.

"It is not Dick's skill in projecting into the future that is to be admired...but rather his capacity to imagine how the future would see the Fifties." —The Weird and the Eerie

"The Web as we know it is already dead."

dancing on a don's grave
conducive great noose-skip
golem hears the whole word
hissy fit & bliss out

what if nothing nutcase
denies itself prizedom
still i'll allow stout joy
its struggle-bump something

Another remarkable episode.

( via / me )

Never Been Any Reason.

rattatat-tat the rain chortles
sun risen but dim quizzical
heartache of nil-verdict vespers
reverse time's bad curse we'd squandered

Oozing contours.

"Frog and Toad went out to fly a kite. They went to a large meadow where the wind was strong.

'Our kite will fly up and up,' said Frog. 'It will fly all the way up to the top of the sky.' " —@frogandtoadbot.bsky.social

"Celadon to me always has been the colour of eternity."

( me / via )

The Ballad of Big Balls.

“For what Ausonius and Claudian, amid many futilities and falsities, did manage at their best to make an expressive instrument becomes in the hands of Sidonius a hopelessly clumsy and dull mechanism. Yet he clearly has an almost frantic enthusiasm for the worn devices of rhetoric, and the stereotypical literary activity in which he and his friends delighted was felt by them as a noble expression of the tradition in all its fullness.” –Song of a Falling World

Pavane.

   ricochets
my share grizzled
   amber lunge
in the left squares
   nothing moves
mountains of grief
   imago
geometry

   you look at
others' losses
   lapse inly
out of whiplash
   continue
the tarn daysail
   imago
geometry

   of course some
semblance will dwell
   this ruin
rat-populous
   poets too
will pullulate
   imago
geometry

   none of us
could narrate
   none of us
described anguish
   like the ones
in their war tents
   imago
geometry

   what is left
but lug hammering
   mask adjust
in the murk glare
   words erode
ridden by deaths
   imago
geometry

Smells like Team Spirit.

( via / via )

Through smudge fires.

suppose us freed · frack-clownishness
how can we hew · having seen bugswarm
routine reives much · & sweeps away
clobbering mishaps · clasped like mainchance
the neighbor · a Gadsden rag gives
shivers a morning · mirthless & wanhope
suppose return · to taking for granted
working ways · wanting but furtherance
eyes meet · in the midst of payback
who did you betray · when trust was a tinderbox

One writes in the rubble.

“The full moon, now, rears with unhastening speed,
sketches the black ridge-end, slides thin lustre
downward aslant its gouged and watered scree.”

–Geoffrey Hill, “The Orchards of Syon”, XIV.

This town's torn up roadways.

( via / via )

Last Date.

"this crisis of faith could’ve been an email" —@kimmysunshine.bsky.social

Tanka.

carrion crow, far-come
   sunken cathedral
the cry wrenched from henchmen
   drizzle on Friday
no use minting yantras
   hammering dimpse-pulse
yesterday's rage wagers
   towers in mist lost

Gun-snug walk law.

( via / via )

Kostensuchus.

rotting pumpkin offramp
erodes swift the gift rege
whereupon whiz hazards
whited clown won't founder

the price tags whirl—priggish
prankcheck—if a dank cough
wanders in from woundcount
await next big figment

Rainy City Cars.

"...as his [Goethe's] first romance he devised six brothers, each of whom 'wrote' chapters in a different language. Goethe thereby perfecting himself in German, English, French, Italian, Latin, and Judaeo-German (Yiddish)..." --Walter Blumenthal, 𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑚𝑒𝑛'𝑠 𝐵𝑒𝑑𝑙𝑎𝑚 (1955)

"Who am I then, in golden September..."

( via/ via )

"No, it doesn’t feel good to look back and see that your books were, apart from anything else you intended, predictions."

"The more 'illegal' immigrant workers deported, the more expensive lawn care gets, the more old folks can no longer age=in-place and must be sent to senior homes." --Jung & Mockus 2025

Papier-Mâché Sestina.

"the man with the hoe"

killing fields for Fergus
affordance drawn bone-dry

cobweb-wiggly chasms
this car in dark circles

dark gray to the dire north
dazzled though uneasy

journeying arch-iceberg
whets eyeshine & washboard

cicala curse-grinding
kept underground crypt-years

foray in the funhouse

Anyone can make a little 8 page zine.

( me / via )

"The most insane story I've read in a long time."

"krasnov agonistes"

none of them near him know
the knack to get gear done
& he sees it all ache
break one breath tree's pennon

One-line poem.

"We’re about to reach levels of deep concern previously unseen" —@reshetz.bsky.social

Hostile analog synth.

( via / via )

"Every time i get a review i glow like a lightning bug."

"The more policemen you have, the more criminals you have; and the more criminals you have, the more policemen you have got to have to catch them: and so it go on and on, until a time will come when everybody will be either a criminal or a policeman." --G B Edwards, 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝐸𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑧𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑒 𝑃𝑎𝑔𝑒

A Ship to India.

"shooter's motive sought"

what the shooter cherished
chars in the firegrate

Trapped under the rubble.

( via / via )

Getting your feet wet in Old Norse prosody.

"blame the birds these vines
are bereft of blackberries
empty promises
last night i dreamed of a pie
that i’ll never get to eat"

—@dylankussman.bsky.social via @evecastle.bsky.social

"I thought the world would finally do something."

One Party Rule means never having to say you're sorry. --sayings of Asmodeus

Trading Lives.

( via / me )

May 1915.

“But she, remembering her old ruin’d hall,
And all the windy clamor of the daws
About her hollow turret, pluck’d the grass
There growing longest by the meadow’s edge,
And into many a listless annulet,
Now over, now beneath her wedding ring,
Wove and unwove it…”

—Alfred Tennyson, “Enid”

"I don't think there is a map."

curve of justice or a LAPSE
loved AGAIN

& we know with what kind of cobble
the Hell road is PAVED

all the incredible things i have discovered
fishing with a SIEVE

not a world but an eidolon of a world
has ENDED

When we went from mechanical hard drives.

( me / via )

Rebound.

“The Remorse of the Dead (Remords Posthume)
(Translated from the French of Charles Pierre Baudelaire)

My sable love, when you at last are lain
Unsought upon the lone, sepulchral bed,
And darkly keep your brothel with the dead,—
Your roomless vault that weeps with fetid rain;
Yea, when the ponderous carven shaft unshaken
Is the one weight your passionate nipples know,
And grinds you down and will not let you go
To find again your faithless lechers, taken
By fairer trulls—then, then, O harlot love,
The grave, which has my very voice, will sigh
All night about your sleep-derided corse,
Whispering ever: 'In the days above,
You dreamt not how the unslumbering wantons lie,
Gnawed by the worms which are the last remorse.’ ”

—Clark Ashton Smith

"Now, if everything were to become radically other from one image to the next, it would be impossible to identify a minimal identity from panel to panel, the order of images would therefore collapse, and the comic with it: there would no longer be a world whose tale could be told."

"Most reckless things are beautiful in some way, and recklessness is what makes experimental art beautiful, just as religions are beautiful because of the strong possibility that they are founded on nothing."
—John Ashbery via @jacobwren.bsky.social

[Unused] Preface to the Book of Dallas.

( via / via )

25th Floor.

Translating as a branch of acting (i.e. impersonation).

Gloria.

stacked TASKS
some bullshit AFOOT
bat with faulty SONAR
no-eucalyptus KOALA
far STRAY

"There's something people need to understand about these school shootings."

( via / me )

Messy.

"fitness journey"

pavane, viral painstep
purling through spike worldlets
cam'ra ready rampikes
aurora now prouding
pavane: vast new pasture's
averted-yurt minefields
& tall trolley-gallows

Behold.

"remember folks, we cant have gun restrictions because if we do the federal government will occupy our streets, imprison people without due process, ship dissidents to foreign gulags and things of that nature" —@ndrew.bsky.social

Prompt engineering.

( via / via )

"Charles Mingus was dying when he saw Joni Mitchell in blackface."

"If only Americans loved their children as much as they love their Cracker Barrel logos." —@bryanbehar.bsky.social

Goodbye Pork Pie Hat.

   donald trump in hell
could only be where no one
   can see him or hear him

maximum security
past the orbit of Pluto

   donald trump in hell
is for others to treat HIM
   like he’s treated them

a pussy to grab or a
pocket to pick · no diff'rence

   donald trump in hell
we should be beyond all that
   no punishment but

having to BE donald trump
as tiresome · as limited

   donald trump in hell
but we all are in that hell
   capitalism

a game that rewards cheaters
more than those who play it straight

   donald trump in hell
or maybe just a courtroom
   that isn’t MAGA

when we start to speak the truth
about predators like that

   the ecosystem
that makes his kind possible
   becomes another

where no one would encourage
him saying bigoted things

   no one would cheer him
no one would clap for him or
   cherish his image

on overpriced merchandise
or trust his bad promises

   & when he opened
his mouth they would turn away
   as from a noxious

smell · no one would confuse him
with something that they needed

(old)

The Wolf That Lives in Lindsey.

( me / via )

Noseblind in Gaza. (2014?)

"Sonnet XXV

As in the midst of battle there is room
For thoughts of love, and in foul sin for mirth;
As gossips whisper of a trinket’s worth
Spied by the death-bed’s flickering candle-gloom;
As in the crevices of Caesar’s tomb
The sweet herbs flourish on a little earth:
So in this great disaster of our birth
We can be happy, and forget our doom.
For morning, with a ray of tenderest joy
Gilding the iron heaven, hides the truth,
And evening gently woos us to employ
Our grief in idle catches. Such is youth;
Till from that summer’s trance we wake, to find
Despair before us, vanity behind.”

—George Santayana

Boomerfying the Masses for a Past that Never Existed.

“Patriarchal poetry makes no mistake.” –Gertrude Stein

The Great Silence.

( via / via )

Morphing square.

The trouble with the idea of reincarnation, is that being an animal is not the punishment. Being human is.

Nobody knows.

   dreamlessness: only
trail across this Sahara
   is self-delusion…

live on stones along the way,
disinterred alabaster.

Outta de Cobwebs: Premonitions. (pdf)

( via / me )

The race goes.

the slow road of slather
sludge—simmering birdlime—

though we know Norns' winding
net merrily kills each

even the tall towers
tagged Harrowing-Foethwart

Ghazal.

“Only the paltry, superfluous, shameless wishes are fulfilled, and the great ones, the ones worthy of a human being, remain unattainable.”

—The Secret Heart of the Clock, Elias Canetti; tr. Joel Agee (via @dreamsofbeing_)

Vixen.

( me / via )

The will to refuse.

Corporations are people—& people ain't.

All things now remind me.

Cheetoh's crumbling craters
cross section of feckless
grifters also—grilsetoward
grisly jumpsuit, bumptious—
M Valdemar's mildew
mansion limns their blanchdream:
a spell bricktoss-broken,
& brim curbs with perv-dust

Death sentence for cuneiform.