( via / via )

Fallacy.

“O Java Tide”

The chilly waters of the night
are not the night.
The ratchet of my anti-theft
device scrapes in a silent car;
the lone drive’s left.

The frigid margins of the dream
are not the dream.
I venture onto foreign soil
in search of rapture & to spring
a hoar gargoyle.

I trail no saving string.

The frozen surface of my life
is not my life.

AI is now auto-enabled in gmail by default.

“I’ll have the cashier draw you up a check at space rates–no, say word rates–half a cent a word is all we can pay–but that’ll be twenty-six bucks. Five of the twenty-six, however, will have to go to the mathematics professor who fixed me up with the actual figures that are set forth in the story. He had to compute them out for me, with logarithms.” —The Face of the Man from Saturn

The Crystal Ship.

( via / via )

Black Gravel (1961). ☆☆☆ More.

“entangled hazes faded hands create” —The Noson Sonnets

"...many commentators regard it as a literal miracle performed by Muhammad in response to demands from the Meccan polytheists for a supernatural sign, while others interpret the verses as a metaphorical statement."

"sniper's alley"

shiny buttons unshared
portion & long black strongbox
miracle words muddle
aware of each brisk fisticuff
no one holds this howl back
hideous brink, death riddle

Coots in the distance on Frensham Pond.

( via / via )

Data visualization by WSJ:.

sniper safari

rarefies span
inspires afar
airfare snips

prairie fans
piss a refrain
i rap fairness

a ref's aspirin

Via ИHCAH, ЗAMAH, ИЗЛƏP…

The decor of plan & design has yielded to the exigencies of repeated moving & having to fit into available space, long ago, & thence a rapid obliviousness upon most of the rooms’ contents—haunted, still, by where a thing should or used to be.

"The feeling when finding an old book with comet observations which proves that a comet orbit in the catalogues is wrong."

( via / via )

DNA.

I always thought there's room for a multigenerational saga based on the idea of a family that buys barren land up north somewhere & JUST WAITS.

Zoolalia.

it doesn’t have to take forever
to watch the coffee dribbling down
to fetch the heart of it again
& know its power
as one who understands

it doesn’t have to take an hour
though in that way it sometimes does
for useless entities carouse
when all you want’s to name that color
high above the Broken Lands

Dynasty of Dust. (redux)

( via / me )

Switched-On Bach.

"diet of xmas penguins"

lettuce hash the hot thing
rehearse winds of curselift
pie carrier-cowan
across the sweet wheatfields
many-fathom'd funhouse,
affordance-rife boardroom
in the crashbright crystal
credit but a dead language

Situation Room.

"Establishing an authoritarian state while simultaneously destroying state capacity was never going to work; it's just going to be massively unpleasant to live through, and for those of us who aren't young it will probably consume the remaining years we have." —@edburmila.bsky.social

Dew triangle wiper-missed.

( via / via )

Streets torn up for years.

An alternative mapping is only useful if it includes things the regular maps leave out, or shows passages unapparent for the ordinary trekkers. When making alternative maps has become an industry, that is already a broken landscape to have to negotiate; yet for all that, a step is still a step.

The map without salesmanship does not exist.

Expiration.

"ode to the secret police"

doom airt of an imminent
orange rain warning

enemy borne backwards
barely any hairballs

malware in the marl airt

Pixel dusk cityscape.

( via / via )

"If it seems hopeless, one has only to look up in perfect silence at the stars…and it does help to remember that poems are the stars, not poets."

the world is not so long
though long it takes to die
from point of view of clowns
avid in underfong

each useless alibi
in toxic splendor drowns
the world is not so long
though long it takes to die

"This is a house that is not only reminiscent of spongebob squarepants but of those memes in which spongebob squarepants is wearing versace."

When all reality has become surreal, remembering when it wasn’t surreal will still be surreal.

"Well, it finally happened - I found a crime that was heinous enough to make me throw out my opposition to the death penalty."

( via / via )

"Of course, Epstein's golden age—Stevens, Frost, Williams—is Wilson's era of 'demoralized weariness'."

“I wonder, Flask, whether the world is anchored anywhere; if she is, she swings with an uncommon long cable, though.”
—@mobydickatsea

Help with Flannery.

"broken limb
after a winter storm
still holding on
who would have expected me
to see such truth"

—@evecastle.bsky.social

A Picture of my Parents with their First Television.

( via / me )

15 Prague novels.

take away the name & i know
i do not know this city

why do i aspire in vain
even to dream of another city

i walked the cobblestones, i spoke
with what i thought were denizens of the city

different pathways, tasks, circles:
we hardly live in the same city

as Graywyvern weaves through traffic
he imagines the future ruins of his city

Triolet.

“Our broken empire, America, wasn’t an empire for very long. But there isn’t one part of its breaking that is not also replicated in each section of the culture. In cars, traffic, movies, buses, banks, schools, war, architecture, hospitals and labs, and in poetry.” —Fanny Howe, The Winter Sun (2009)

24 hours of Throbbing Gristle.

( via / me )

Nose on the Grindstone.

“The task of theology lies in circumscribing the edges of symbolism and making an enclosure of it.” —Khatibi & Sijelmass, The Splendor of Islamic Calligraphy (1994)

The Siege of Jerusalem.

"When God pours out rain and the earth floods

When God pours out rain and the earth floods for the sake of a flower, it is a love that no one knows. Afterward:

cities, like women, commit the names of those who raped them to memory. I glimpse a light and a thundering sky, I ready myself for a photo op and questions. I know God is omniscient. Why won't Gaza remarry like her sisters, Jerusalem, Jericho, Jenin?

Gaza dwells beside Hebron, so why so distant, sad, alone in the desert, standing before the sea? What's the difference between you and her? We're both gasping. You, into a reed flute, she into what she's lost.

The cypress is an old woman dancing at her great-grandson's wedding. The palm tree is a girl waving where are you headed to in Ramallah? My home's an orange tree that guards the path through the bare woods. The dusk, a mountain range braiding its slope.

Cities paint the air the color of clay. Gaza must stay up late with her killers and placate the victims. Her forehead's green where she's emblazoned God's name, where she's tried to escape from a masquerade.

I ask my body's first part, how it was figured. I have ten mothers. I was born an orphan to the soul of a woman. She refrained from desire, she married a barren land.

Who molded you into the almond, transmitted seed toward the blossom? A bunch hanging in the grapevine-sky, a butterfly losing its way in the garden,

and so you came into being, your first name dragged its two letters into the world—

Now I dwell in a land once untouched by misfortune, a land whose alleys I know by the cactus, by the lemon tree, by the tribes who hosted us in their pastures on our first migration, so we would guard their fear, and our women dwelt in their mills.

Who killed the dead sea? Who stole blue from salt? We have nowhere to be but here so the fields turn green. Father,

our migration is harrowing, camels cross the river, bullets pass overhead.

And he says Life is minutes and seconds. The shivering of water quenches. It is sufficient."

—Khaled Shaheen in You Must Live

The Shard, a wet London.

( via / me )

A village with many stories.

"ATLANTIS WISHED (Anagram-Sonnet)

Within sad slate,
wind halts a site.
The island waits,
sans tidal white.
Awe hits its land—
At dawn, this isle
tilts wise a hand.
It stands awhile.

In wash, last tide,
the sand it wails.
Wan salt, it hides
its wit and shale.
Its death in laws,
it lies and thaws."

—@anthonyetherin.bsky.social

"Their methods were controversial, the results debatable, but it cannot be denied that their legacy is an intriguing one."

I resent any alteration, however minor, to the fortress of my routine. My routine is a raft on rough seas, forever in danger of capsizing. If i have any self besides the patterns i create, i do not know of it.

Jesus wept.

( via / me )

Tiger Drinking at Forest Pool.

“Mystery isn't something that is gradually evaporating. It grows along with knowledge.”

~Flannery O'Connor, ‘The Habit of Being’ via @willdonnelly.bsky.social

To a Moth Seen in Winter.

"lectures on the antichrist"

looking outside the sickness
led bitterly Bedlam
it must mean a chess trick

march of sky departures
face of a moon fawning
confessed & still stealing

Bucket list.

( via / via )

Revolt of the losers. (thread)

"THE VAMPIRE (Palindrome)

No smirch selfless,
ever a wan anaemic,
I rip.

Maven,
I wage bites
sure of a foe.

Russet,
I beg
a wine vampiric —

I mean:
an aware vessel,
flesh crimson...."

—@anthonyetherin.bsky.social

30 minutes north of Winnipeg.

"Well, it's a little clearer now why billionaires are so invested in technology that produces better written emails." —@cethanleahy.com

"Nyarlathotep" in Egyptian hieroglyphics.

( via / me )

A title screen for a game that doesn’t exist.

"I spent so long achieving the elite levels of enlightenment necessary to reincarnate as mindless sand. Then they RUINED IT by putting me in a MACHINE and making me THINK"
—@ctrlcreep.bsky.social

"Wordsworth claimed to have composed the poem entirely in his head, beginning it upon leaving Tintern and not jotting down so much as a line until he came back to Bristol, by which time it had just reached mental completion."

rabbit's foot · found scampering
running scared
through the low grass · of a late sun
thresh greenery
solve rabbit choices

The Drummer V.

( via / me )

Emperor Krasnov enters Heaven.

a penny saved—cipher
hyacinthine—minus
a basin's bright gleam or
to pay back what's lacking

copper Lincoln, kernel
part of keeping martflow
windmill in wild rave storm
shade weaves among reivers

Pale cerulean prose.

Test the market for conversion-narratives.

The Red-Gold Border.

( via / via )

Cold, Cold Heart.

“To a poet nothing can be useless.” —Rasselas

David Bowie and the Story of Ziggy Stardust.

No more on earth can tigers find a home:
Why then should there exist a place for you?
Complain about the ways you’re forced to roam
No more on earth. Can tigers find a home
In myth? So hitch that sable-lacquered brougham
And see if signs will ferry your juices through.
No more on earth can tigers find a home.
Why then should there exist a place for you?

Walking round in a funhouse. (twxttxr)

( me / via )

. Written on Van Gogh's Wall.

"DJT—some months hence"

no pity · for the fallen fraud
for a sick old man · rapist & thief
destroyer of laws · & structures that worked
no pity · just spitting scorn
   & unrelenting odium
to the end of time

Here’s a fren I made this morning.

Really, the only good thing about living in the 21c is being able to put CBD on your pancakes.

Judy-Lynn del Rey documentary.

( via / via )

Demonstration.

"But I do not quarrel with fate. It is not a contest in which we should emerge victorious."
—@ivycomptonburnett.bsky.social

Shakin' All Over.

       "Worlds"

warm trickle · sunrise traipse
   when does this dig punch through
curved corridor · calm lost
   regurgalite bookmark
train gliding · gleeful smash
   step by step descend
historical henge · raised by refugee
   labor in the cross camp

The Hidden Face of The Origin of the World.

( via / via )

Labyrinth.

"march of the white trucks"

poisonwind no wiser
a weatherfend frayed deathmarch
baboon pulpit poohbah
pelt-innocent closeup
thirst trap abrupt trinket
trail along edgeward dredgepath

Notes from the zombie apocalypse.

"fog
borrows
the bridge"

—@wolftwinthomas.bskysocial

Edtech boogaloo.

( me / via )

"The queller of hunger of tumult-seagulls of Heiti’s steed-gleam."

I am to Langpo as a Sufi is to Islam.

Spectres, Skin and Bone.

rIn noH ‘e’ ne vere kredis mi.
i did not really think the war would end
la domon je la gxiajn internajxon DImeQtaH.
we are burning down the house with everyone in it

al la lasto fino jeghbe'bogh songx-meymaj
and our dreams, adamant to the end,
estos tre lastaj Heghbogh Dochmey.
will be the very last things to perish

Autistic Noir.

( me / via )

I've fallen down the Temu screaming goat throw pillow rabbithole.

"CLOUDS AT DAWN (Palindrome by Triples)

Sky white.
Rain,
as fawns adorn my morns....
A dawn
as fainter whisky."

—@anthonyetherin.bsky.social

"This is the machine working exactly as it was built..."

"It is not that I have no past. Rather, it continually fragments on the terrible and vivid ephemera of now."
—Samuel R. Delany, Dhalgren via @jacobwren.bsky.social

.i zvati la zirpu ckafybarja

( via / @gregbuttay.eth )

Live in Southampton 1977.

“Then, as it were, relieving the poet, the critic who studies him, in turn, must stand firm against those miseries and horrors, these disquieting shocks of reality—he must pick up the poet’s verses, all twisted where disaster has struck him, and he must carry them further, like Drummond, to where there is tranquillity and leisure enough for him to point out what form and what sense the poet had tried to give them, to supply by his own judicial comments the straightness and the soundness they lack.” —Edmund Wilson, “A Preface to Persius” (1927), from The Shores of Light

Haikube.

"GALXE LISRI”

the story in the throat
not the story in the head
maybe there will be

no looking back
and those
on whom the chore devolves

of believing anew in
some tomorrow
will they have

the same
story in the throat

as we do
lost
in the absence of futures

X5.1 class solar flare.

( via / via )

Airship Docking.

"Beneath Pellucidar"

open to the trapdoor
betrayal psalm 'midst fallmurk
singing high-hewn fangstreak
here stirious neon
streets full of stress hustle
strict in wasteful snaste-gospel
at home mutter mobled
moot though the tinchel elses
elegy fails—feeble
fireworks—as malign ninepins
tumble & a tired vampire
tickles tornado mowings
open to the trapdoor psalm

Things broken along the way.

You choose a team (or have one chosen for you); then believe the sorts of things others on your team believe.

"Written entirely in pantoum form, this book was a grief outlet for me after the death of my father."

( via / via )

"I wonder who set up that archive of tech-art videos 16 years ago and couldn't keep at it."

“The basic teachings were communicated in a whisper…” –Gershom Scholem, Kabbalah (1974)

"As you watch the show, you can get Google’s Artificial Intelligence to translate the TV show from speech to subtitled text in real-time."

"Regurgalite"

chain to the moon, cheekily
unexpected cargo sprig
Cherokee spelling
planetary term

dawn without drywall
tears drying
testament mooch—
& the submarine settles

miracle sandwich
charred chains to the moon

Behind the Facade.

( via / via )

Five elements.

"In the House of Unfinished Sentences"

erasure, rune sunshine
rain of feral bonk-concrete
want to hide
want to hide unhunted
harvesting pumpkin carvers
pale cerulean radints
arrive shiverfueled, yielding
slant of light
slant of light & slaughter
we slide across like spiders,
erasure, rune sunshine

Gradual Clearing.

That i should be foolish–a given; that my foolishness might be toxic—unthinkable. For when we are children we don’t actually get the chance to break anything bigger than ourselves.

Frederick Turner's Genesis.