my digital home
wafts stink of Nazi cigars
glumly i ponder
these boxes of homecoming
haven't even opened yet
The Gospel of Inequality, preached by means of images.
[F].
Saturday, September 20, 2025
The 1910 lynching of Allen Brooks in Downtown Dallas was printed on postcards sent nationwide.
“…sure as men have died, strong necromancy
Hath set the clock of time and nature back;
And made Earth’s rooty, ruinous grave-piled caverns
Throb with the pangs of birth.”
—Thomas Lovell Beddoes
“flood plain
inch by inch shorter
the bulrushes
like this long bridge we
once built between us”
—an'ya
"Exeter Riddle 47
A moth munched words: a marvelous fate,
that seemed to me, hearing speech of this strangeness,
that a worm should swallow a warrior's song,
despoiler in the gloom, the glory-fast speech,
and the hardy one's seat. Nor was the housebreaker
one whit the sager for the words swallowed."
—Bruce Byfield at Alliteration.net
"She has always been evangelical about the banjo."
Woke mind virus is to name the stink of shit.
"Modern-day Romeo and Juliet where he deletes his social media because he thought she deleted hers but really she just got temporarily suspended for pissing off the mods so when she gets back online she sees that he deleted his account so she gets super sad and deletes hers" —@thehyyyype.bsky.social
"Deor (Translation)
Knowing wretchedness, Welund moved near snakes.
Lone-minded man · muted to pain,
He cleaved to his sorrow · coldest vengeance
Through winter's longing, having watched in anguish
As Nithhad bound him · with knotted sinews,
Annulled all mastery · of the better man
That passed over ... and so this may!
Not brothers' deaths, but her belly swollen
And plump from plowing · appalled this Beadohild,
Whom Welund had weighted · a pitiable way:
Never bold, now bred, with bearing close,
Distress drugged · and reason deserted her.
That passed over ... and so this may!
We heard rape's outrage · as ruin fell to song,
Hate-words; yet heartless · by the hurt of Nithhad
Who, slitting the flesh, slept sorrowfully.
That passed over ... and so this may!
The Maerings' stronghold · shook steadily
Full thirty winters · in Theodoric's trust.
That passed over ... and so this may!
Asking of Eormanric · we heard but evil
Of his wolfish ways, how widely his sway
Grieved Goths in the kingdom -- that grimmest of kings!
Many a man sat, sorrow-bound,
Watchful for misery; wished many a time
That his country's nightmare · might be overcome.
That passed over ... and so this may!
And still he sits · liege to sorrow,
Darkened in heart, doling himself
What surely seems · an endless share of woe.
Yet the world's turning · works into his mind --
The wicked lord · falls before the wise,
Grants by his absence · honor to the abject man,
Power to the weak, pain to his fallen hinds.
So that I of myself · wish to say
That once I sang · as the Heodenings' scop
To my dear prince. Deor was my name.
Many winters I ruled · rightly from my place,
Ruled the high lord -- until Heorrenda now,
He skilled in song, received my whole estate,
That I had never stained · since bestowed on me.
That passed over ... and so this may!"
—Keith Moul at Alliteration.net
knee hydrogen jukebox
grinds jesting divestment
for the darkwave doula
bow down to snide idol
"In an alternate universe there’s only one movie about falling in love, but thousands about swapping faces with john travolta" —@andrewcharmings.bsky.social
"One morning Toad sat in bed. 'I have many things to do,' he said. 'I will write them all down on a list so that I can remember them.' " —@frogandtoadbot.bsky.social
"WHAT'S A HAIKU? (Anagrammed Lines)
Basically, the paced
heptadecasyllabic
blade; a patchy slice."
—@anthonyetherin.bsky.social
Friday, September 19, 2025
a rival team
wants the game to be over
new game of barbed wire
& of abrupt deciding
which side you will wind up on
Dutch late night TV has its take.
"i feel like you could classify us by vibe pretty effectively just by what the username is
palindrome, aeronautical engineering reference, mathematical foundations, gnostic heresy, logical fallacy, pun/no pun, philosophy (and which one), etc" —@segyges.bsky.social
"I’m not going in there with those vultures."
( @d3mo_disuelto / @coleccion_solo )Mario Klingemann (@quasimondo) presents A.I.C.C.A. , an AI new "critical eye" on the art scene.
— SOLO (@coleccion_solo) June 9, 2023
An @onkaosgallery project presented at Espacio SOLO. pic.twitter.com/BbGENa8Yly
Taylor Swift singing "Masters of War" at Krasnov's graveside.
the Great Ice · grooved the land
skewed the kind · of creatures after
left in language · not one word
for the later ones · to know its name
our remembering moved · mighty stones
our cave dreams · faded, decayed
so the world wends · to a diff'rent Waterloo
we can barely discern · except in numbers
we creep with flashlight · in the darkest place
stare up at stains · on that pristine canvas
"This is particularly impactful when a narcissist is also the most powerful man in the world."
"Wild gorgon sighting
dark rumors spread over Crete
disappearances
and a lack of reporting
from the home of King Minos "
—@polloscope.bsky.social
Still no songs about global warming. Is it trouble finding rhymes?
Make sure to follow the instructions quoted below.
“So readily thieves; so unwillingly learners. Who says this terrible system wasn’t, in its own way, highly successful?” –Eva Rasolnikov, Marooned Among Losers (2004)
"spirit's release toyed with"
titrate mood from tussle
t'ward feculent future
song recs from the radio
Rolf challenging bingewatch
Epstein magic minstrel
mocks harrowing hoedown
the shaky hand—sheetrock
sharp—institutes Gitmos
parkinglot packed like
peeve tenements tumbles
to what is only imgrat
—ill-justified cufflinks
barbed-wire berries gather
balk critical nitpick
catnip among cargo
cult hem'rrhaging bridgeburns
what i say asunder
silk tentacles fuck with
wither to find warfare
wends latticework misfire
the wrong render whisks off
roost-designate stigma
even in this erstwhile
oak groundstalworth frolic
werewolf moon leers merely
murk centipede-upshot
who cares whether wharfson
hwyl-serenades sundown
afar feral doomscrolls
funk intricate diction
porter dark as pathway-
pierce garlands this khamsin
"Imagine in a few years, you come across an online video of yourself..."
“XII.
Their spades grafted through the variably-resistant soil. They clove to the hoard. They ransacked epiphanies, vertebrae of the chimera, armour of wild bees’ larvae. They struck the fire-dragon’s faceted skin.
The men were paid to caulk water-pipes. They brewed and pissed amid splendour; their latrine seethed its estuary through nettles. They are scattered to your collations, mouldywarp.
It is autumn. Chestnut-boughs clash their inflamed leaves. The garden festers for attention: telluric cultures enriched with shards, corms, nodules, the sunk solids of gravity. I have accrued a golden and stinking blaze.”
–Geoffrey Hill, Mercian Hymns (1971)
“…mosques…were built with mortar that had been mixed with musk. …It is even said…that the Mosque of Zobiade still smells of musk today.” –John Trueman, The Romantic Story of Scent (1975)
[A great poem is such a mosque.]
Thursday, September 18, 2025
“This past, for me, has important decorative, ornamental functions; further, it is a vast repository of outmoded lies, where you can check out what lies used to be a la mode and find the old lies on which new lies have been based.” –Angela Carter, Shaking a Leg (1997)
"lone gunman"
firefly-chasing · in the Never Charted
a little bit of sweets
drink darkness · as the walls press
it's nothing personal
some vortex vanished · overnight
your job to chronicle
the world is all · that is the case
in case you hadn't noticed
we are alone · like junkyard wrecks
a path winding between
marks passage · of the imperceptible
“The Song Of Shadows
Sweep thy faint strings, Musician,
With thy long lean hand;
Downward the starry tapers burn,
Sinks soft the waning sand;
The old hound whimpers couched in sleep,
The embers smoulder low;
Across the walls the shadows
Come, and go.
Sweep softly thy strings, Musician,
The minutes mount to hours;
Frost on the windless casement weaves
A labyrinth of flowers;
Ghosts linger in the darkening air,
Hearken at the open door;
Music hath called them, dreaming,
Home once more.”
—Walter de la Mare
"Cool was meant to be about outsiders. Cute has no inside or outside: it’s all surface."
“deal, infidel, the night is indeed difficult” –Gwendolyn MacEwen
"Trump just likely adopted a code word 'enigma' for the kind of young victim that Epstein and Maxwell supplied. Enigma is an anagram of 'gamine', a French word for young girl." —@hey.rupert.murdochbait.click
“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
"tribute to charlie"
falcon chemtrails · cadge fingerprints
ten tall rules · on the wooze wall
this riot's · rented lodge
varicose snowball
Frankenstein garbage
imposter partner · chemtrail smoothie
ten ripped rules · on the warped wall
landmarks lurch · into mist dropping
now we fall
our hearts stopping
"Cobwebs are just goth houseplants" —@doth.bsky.social
"Pumpkin spice restraining order" —@kellalena.bsky.social
" We all know that you have the highest chance of getting a publication through if you put a thin veneer of originality on an affirmation of the conventional wisdom." (via @lastpositivist.bsky.social)
"rented lodge
introducing my name
as cold winter rain
—haiku poems of Matsuo Basho, 1690-1691
translator: Jane Reichhold" via @evecastle.bsky.social
"crescent"
Nemesis not soon enough
but touches in its own time
the sword's noon
my windshield speckled with warnings
we only pretend to understand
& weary of ice
in the shade lingered long
best coffeehouse closings
looted cloisters
i stop & go staring
at a moon named Nemesis
"Lenders at the library...have been asking him to find books that don’t exist."
" 'Unprecedented' is becoming as meaningless as 'iconic' " —@stephengraham.bsky.social
Wednesday, September 17, 2025
"Resistance begins with our care with truth and language."
" 'Water mixed with night is an old remorse that will not sleep,' writes Bachelard."
—@dreamsofbeing.bsky.social
outrage has its season;
now i steer through oobleck.
pure night, tide of daedal
undoings, pain's rainbow,
& all the fine pillow
words refer to nothing.
outrage has its season.
now i glean one meaner.
The word for elephant and butterfly is the same.
“They recalled but dimly their former existence; and the state to which they had been summoned was empty and troublous and shadow-like. Their blood ran chill and sluggish, mingled with water of Lethe; and the vapors of Lethe clouded their eyes.” —Clark Ashton Smith
"the sky"
birds fell dead from the sky
struck by invisible kiss
we who look for no sign
wander through teeming darkness
we flow like urns
we grow like alms
nameless
our death is in the sky
A Further Word for the Monitor.
“a cicada chirrs
one crow
no messages yet”
—@poem_exe
Ten Thousand Words in a Cardboard Box.
"Hard to believe the Great Cracker Barrel War was only a fortnight ago." —@yankdownunder.bsky.social
“To an archaicism which is inimitable because it is purely capricious, he was drawn at once by its reminiscent picturesqueness and by its musical possibilities. …he took advantage of the unsettled state of English in his day, not only to revive the obsolete, but to coin new words on old analogies, and to adapt both his spelling and his pronunciation to his desired effects of cadence and melody. …He cherished words which though still in use were rapidly passing out of fashion, and the sustained colouring and atmosphere of his style is thus given by a constant use of words which are found in Marlowe, Shakespeare, or Sidney, perhaps once or twice. …he was the first conscious inventor of a distinct poetic diction, which drew from ‘well-languaged’ Daniel a criticism of his ‘aged accents and untimely words,’ and from Ben Jonson the charge that ‘in affecting the ancients he writ no language.’ “ —E de Sincourt, introduction to The Oxford Spenser (1921)
"We left that tower with nothing but our lives."
"disavowal of my bad thoughts"
the feral word weathers
warfare & surf-ravage
hides in the stone staring
" 'If so many songs circle round you,' Callimachus asked Delos itself, 'what kind shall I weave about you?' " (via @alinaetc.bsky.social)
"essential tremor"
Noir in rooms that only wireless fills;
sugary yonder, though there too dwells the nightmare.
A minute passes, making landscapes blur
while tomorrow filches razors for its veils.
Our things become ephemeral, no plans
possible. I shuffle next to shelves
clenched against that other blatant cranch
as somewhere far, the world’s last glacier melts.
"Hope is something we generate, not something that settles on us like a ray of sunshine."
“[C]ivilization is not destroyed by wicked people; it is not necessary that people be wicked but only that they be spineless.”
—James Baldwin via @esglaude.bsky.social
“I’m just here for the degradation of the discourse.” –@NeinQuarterly
Report from the Besieged City.
"the sterile neutrino"
world-ending delirium
kind silence of the moth sphinx
sole steering by Gegenschein
surgebundle return
flee headlong
in the incommunicable hour
in radiant frost
old selves fester chanting let’s march addicted
Glock woke fnordage-agley wisp
angst stripe pert
world-ending delirium
kind silence of the moth sphinx
(2020)
“Huge sea of sorrow, and tempestuous griefe,
Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long,
Far from the hoped hauen of reliefe
Why do thy cruell billowes beat so strong,
And thy moyst mountaines each on others throng,
Threatning to swallow vp my fearefull life?
O do thy cruell wrath and spightfull wrong
At length allay, and stint thy stormy strife,
Which in these troubled bowels raignes, and rageth rife.
For else my feeble vessell crazd, and crackt
Through thy strong buffets and outrageous blowes,
Cannot endure, but needs it must be wrackt
On the rough rocks, or on the sandy shallowes,
The whiles that loue it steres, and fortune rowes;
Loue my lewd Pilot hath a restlesse mind
And fortune Boteswaine no assuraunce knowes,
But saile withouten starres gainst tide and wind:
How can they other do, sith both are bold and blind?
Thou God of winds, that raignest in the seas,
That raignest also in the Continent,
At last blow vp some gentle gale of ease,
The which may bring my ship, ere it be rent,
Vnto the gladsome port of her intent:
Then when I shall my selfe in safety see,
A table for eternall moniment
Of thy great grace, and my great ieopardee,
Great Neptune, I auow to hallow vnto thee.”
—The Faerie Queene III, 4.
"Even though the Roman commonwealth has sunk to such an extremity of helplessness that it no longer rewards those who are devoted to it, it does not follow that my times never give birth to a Brutus or a Torquatus." --πΏππ‘π‘πππ ππ πππππππ’π π΄ππππππππππ (tr W B Anderson, III.viii, To Eucherius)
A neural network is picking the topics it wants to discuss, then uses AI to generate that video.
"Girls only want one thing, and it’s to see everyone in this admin tried in The Hague" —@toadcialism.bsky.social
"apotheosis of ignorance"
pale cerulean ponder
past the exact bracket
a thousand years thronging
in the thrashed air herald
of fall—whence our festive
affordance—glum crumble
& masked thugs a-marching
manymong the dwindle
afar barely bothered
in boredom's vast fastness
assassin won't save us
nor sulk of rote voting
i count on heart haywire
& healthy droog knellthirl
the curtain drops cat-soft
chaos in the daydream
we were ever warpspeed
at wing-augur logging
"Each occasion is worse than the last..." (thread)