Natural Specimens with Elaborate Metallic Motifs.
the last taken down
will be the flags, after all
the inner nation
has evaporated from
the hearts of the populace
Chandelier Hangs in the Shape of an Octopus.
"and the earth is setting
our forgotten heroes free,
asking, my countrymen, if you
still want to be cowards."
—Giacomo Leopardi: Canti (tr Jonathan Galassi, 2010)
Tanks moving into Mexico City.
Want to Stop ICE? Go After Its Corporate Collaborators. (Mefi thread)
We need to stop saying "hysteria": instead, "testeria" which is much more common.
Desired Constellation, which someone has dared to cover.
"Age of axe, age of wolf
Before we are done,
it falls to us
to be the last to know
the long winter,
the age before axe-,
the age before wolf-,
thinking the wild one
to be well bound.
Our children chide us,
the choices made,
when higher ones still
held the reaper,
the beast, in abeyance,
in bindings, not killed;
the spit from its mouth,
so spilt, meaning hope.
The young not knowing
the yearning of nations
for peace at all prices;
pretty the scenes
that hid the wolf-teeth,
the hooded wolf-eyes,
now seen to run
in riotous abandon.
The frozen time done,
now fire arrives.
The ship of the dead,
shame to us all,
with care & attendance
could have been stayed.
The Spoilers coming
will spare none.
Is it now?
or is it not?
The question keeps us
quarrelling, at odds.
But wolves, for sure,
are working their malice,
'Out of law'; the or-log
owning the world."
—Math Jones on Alliterative List
The Way It Is. (They also do a pretty good Pink Floyd.)
"Zersetzung"
the cold leaving · its trace in the mind
trace across years · from having been cold
the sprig sprinted
from its prose perch
for long living
the framework heaving · what hacks within
ornaments wobble · in weird unison
—cat attacks
a Xmas tree—
days, my mind
the cold of years · yawp barbaric
to my soft bones · in the last dregs
didn't want done
& trust tried
head twisted off
words fall · like the falcons they are
" 'Yes,' said Frog, reaching for a cookie, 'we need will power.'
'What is will power?' asked Toad."
—@frogandtoadbot.bsky.social
"[WEIRD TALES ANAGRAMS
CLARK ASHTON SMITH
Snatch Skim-Harlot
Lissom Rank-Thatch
Tomcat Shrinklash
Mr. O. K. Thatch-Snails
HOWARD PHILLIPS LOVE CRAFT
Elf-Pillow Harpsichord-Vat
Whir-Frill Vat-Cephalopod
Childproof Whelp-Travails
ROBERT E. HOWARD
Abhorred Tower
Other Wardrobe
Wet Orb-Hoarder]"
—@harryskeeler.bsky.social
Kitëzhsunk
tabletop game
whose playing
in the clouds plumes
stinging chill
no charm arming
can kicked more
down miry road
a hundred
dollars inhaled
"ALCHEMICAL
Silence cooked like gold, in
charred
hands.
Great, gray
sisterly shape
near like all that is lost:
All the names, all those
names
burnt with the rest. So much
ash to be blessed. So much
land won
above
the weightless, so weightless
rings
of souls.
Great, gray one. Cinder-
less.
You, then.
You with the pale
bit-open bud,
you in the wine-flood.
(Us too, don't you think,
this clock dismissed?
Good,
good, how your word died past us here.)
Silence, cooked like gold, in
charred, charred
hands.
Fingers, insubstantial as smoke. Like crests, crest of air
around— —
Great, gray one. Wake-
less.
Re-
gal one."
—Hamburger's Celan
My linocut portrait of Barbara Hepworth. (short video)
“𝐆𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐤, he thinks. An evocative Turkish word, with Arabic roots. It means jewelry, but only jewelry adorning a woman between her lower neck and the top of her breasts. Gerdanlouk. He looks away.”
—Jenny White, 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑎𝑛'𝑠 𝑆𝑒𝑎𝑙 (via thequotesearch.com)
"[SOME ANAGRAMS OF IVY COMPTON-BURNETT
Contrive Numb-Potty
Province Nutty-Tomb
Boycott Vermin-Punt
Non-Cop Brevity-Mutt
Connive by Trump-Tot
Purity Tomb-Convent
Mr. Bouncy Tinpot-Vet
Bovine Mutton-Crypt]"
—@ivycomptonburnett.bsky.social
"And without shame, infamy and esteem become indistinguishable."
dirgewrixle · road through the desert
these tall towers · that topple perpetually
no good as a gadfly · where glass repels
whisper godspeed · to the ketamine demons
promised riot · proceeds in high places
all our faith · is in fury's corrosion
nod to the neighbor · never known years now
what do we have to trade · whose hacks are all words
(12/24)
Theme from Valley of the Dolls.
"I go out of the darkness
onto a road of darkness
lit only by the far off
moon on the edge of the mountains."
—Lady Izumi Shikibu (Rexroth tr)
"Out of the darkness
onto a road of darkness
i go, illumined
only by the far-off moon
on the edge of the mountains."
(my paraphranslation)
"Abominable are the tumblers into which he pours his poison." —@mobydickatsea.bsky.social
That's How Every Empire Falls. (John Prine)
"Mary's 'Virgin' Explanation Made Joseph Suspect Upstairs Neighbor. Mnemonic for the planets. #xkcd" —@suitti.bsky.social
semiquincentennial
mannequin tinsel ice
cinema linen inquest
antique incense, limn
menial quiescent inn
incline mints a queen
Psycho Venn diagram between the things that bug me & the things that terrify me.
pale yellow lawn · wolf crescent
lies in the White House
blood in the streets · extravagant chatter
yellow December lawn
"Do you begin to see, then, what kind of world we are creating?"
"Sol LeWitt in his 'Sentences on Conceptual Art' (1969)...asserted that 'Conceptual Artists are mystics rather than rationalists. They leap to conclusions that logic cannot reach,' and that, therefore, 'irrational thoughts should be followed absolutely and logically.' " —Barry Schwabsky at the Nation
Writing Haiku like Jack Kerouac.
Genocide doesn't grow on trees.
"The Temple & the Tithe
Laminar wind, unsoiled, · lifts lint from living fur;
Cedar scents the sanctum · where soft feet pace the grate.
C-Fifty-Seven bears · black blood-price;
Wistar, white Adam, · waits, warehoused, watchful,
Dawn brought the feeding hand; · dusk brought the felling thumb—
The hand that filled the water · felled them with the final sleep.
Ear-punch prints the witness · in numb cartilege, nailing the named;
Tail-vein takes blue river · where viral vectors ride to root;
LD-Fifty weighs death in halves · while hush comes heavy, CO2 closing—
Till thumb-snap shuts the spine-cord · and soul-spark, severed, is gone;
Sharps Bin stands red, ready, · sealiong researchers' spent refuse;
Stream-hell scrubs the silver · and stacks their souls in data's scroll.
Cures come; · corpses count.
Gift endures; · glory stays."
Living fossils. (Which aren't actually crabs.)
Fearless Leader lead pipe
loads Bóudica's trinket
static tharn though staring
still at the hare killer
nothing now can stop me
struts ludicrous knickknack
Ozymandrake mulchheap
scatters amidst fistfights
"The number of Gestapo in Germany was 32,000. The population was 70 million. That's one Gestapo for every 2200 citizens.
The number of ICE agents is 20,000. The population of the US is 348 million. That's one ICE agent for every 17,000 citizens.
There are more of us."
—@cherylrofer.bsky.social
Letter to Lorca Written on his Piano.
"Then there you lie like the one warm spark in the heart of an arctic crystal."
—@mobydickatsea.bsky.social
sparsely adorned sprockets
wan spigot of figments
winter this is whalebone
of the hardware hourglass
book with pages plucked out
a read purely curio
carbonized veldt venom
as i roar vast castoffs
a full vial of encounter
fierce mistletoe ultion
the skin-knuckle napkin
annuls hovering bullseye
storylike elixir
Jericho graffiti
fetid will to injure
tourbillon effigy
the wrong cipher, center
We should have stopped right there.
"Here the coelacanth awaited us in a large trellis-work cage that was hauled up from the depths. I observed its slow and measured movements, its primitive appearance, its sharp hooked teeth. Most of all I was conscious of its eyes. Definitely not your usual opaque fish eyes. These were alert, watching, waiting. The eyes of a predator, the eyes of man's ancestor." —Edwin Morrisby, Unpackaged Tours (1988)
Along my local piece of the River Medway.
"In the difficult years ahead, we should remember that the snows of Olympus lie silent beneath the stars, waiting for our grandchildren."
- Arthur C. Clarke (via @dsfspacefl1ght.bsky.social)
"You have to think about what each word actually means!"
"...PLASHES THE FOUNTAIN
You prayer-, you blasphemy-, you
prayer-sharp knives
of my
silence.
You my words being crippled
together with me, you
my hale ones.
And you:
you, you, you
my later of roses
daily worn true and
more true—;
How much, O how much
world. How many
paths.
You crutch, you wing. We— —
We shall sing the nursery rhyme, that one,
do you hear, that one
with the hu, with the man, with the human being, the one
with the scrub and with
the pair of eyes that lay ready there as
tear-upon-
tear."
—Hamburger's Celan
History and Legacy of the AI Wars.
scorch silence · stabiliamenta
in the violizzle rain
tweaking robots' · unreasonings
with my superior grip
3-D printed whistle · whelk blood
for ink
stabiliamenta · scorch silence
"Men fear women will laugh at them; women fear men will kill them."
-- Margaret Atwood, Waterloo University, February 1982 (via @misterjayem.bsky.social
" 'You don’t feel that marriage would mean a fuller life?'
'I don’t want the things it would be full of.' " —@ivycomptonburnett.bsky.social
"COME BACK
You came back to us in a dream and we were not here
In a light dress laughing you ran down the slope
To the door
And knocked for a long time thinking it strange
Oh come back we were watching all the time
With the delight choking us and the piled
Grief scrambling like guilt to leave us
At the sight of you
Looking well
And besides our questions our news
All of it paralyzed until you were gone
Is it the same way there"
—W S Merwin
"Tis true, I pay my debts when they'r contracted;
I steal from no man; would not cut a Throat
To gain admission to a great man's purse,
Or a Whores bed; I'de not betray my Friend,
To get his Place or Fortune: I scorn to flatter
A Blown-up Fool above me, or crush the wretch beneath me,
Yet, Jaffeir, for all this, I am a Villain!
Jaff. A Villain—
Pierre. Yes a most notorious Villain:
To see the suffrings of my fellow Creatures,
And own my self a Man: To see our Senators
Cheat the deluded people with a shew
Of Liberty, which yet they ne'r must taste of;
They say, by them our hands are free from fetters,
Yet whom they please they lay in basest bonds;
Bring whom they please to Infamy and Sorrow;
Drive us like wracks down the rough Tide of Power,
Whilst no hold's left to save us from Destruction;
All that bear this are Villains; and I am one,
Not to rouse up at the great Call of Nature,
And check the Growth of these Domestick Spoilers,
That makes us slaves and tells us 'tis our Charter."
—Thomas Otway, "Venice Preserv'd" (1682)
"The National Weather Service used AI to create a forecast for Idaho. Low chances of wind for the nonexistent towns of Cocrerrireod, Orangeotild and Whata Bod" —Drew Harwell via
A Cow Like That Gives 5,000 Liters a Day.
Bowie singing in Nadsat really ups the ante.
Live in New York City and commute to Los Angeles in under 45 minutes. (read the comments)
"she was a poet
among other things
where do the poems
go when the poet
has been killed?
I picture the snow
in Minnesota
falling on a lake
and want to write
her name—
Renee—
on its cold
white page"
—@sarahhina.bsky.social
"Cold Turkey
They’re over now forever, the long dances.
Our woods are quiet. The god is gone tonight.
Our girls, good girls, have shaken off their trances.
They’re over now forever, the long dances.
Only the moonlight, sober and real, advances
over our hills to touch my head with white.
They’re over now forever, the long dances.
Our woods are quiet. The god is gone tonight."
—Joshua Mehigan (via Victoria Moul)
"According to a new poll from the Movement Advancement Project and NORC, an estimated 400,000 transgender people have already fled their home states for safer ones since the 2024 election..." —Erin Reed
"For now Perseverance keeps storing rocks that might never be picked up."
Defcon all the whistles. The linktree.
"What’s the mighty difference between holding a mast’s lightning-rod in the storm, and standing close by a mast that hasn’t got any" —@mobydickatsea.bsky.social
"a rent in my soul
in the midst of my morning
—a light snow falls,
quiet feathers from grey sky,
amid a dark storm’s shadow"
—@evecastle.bsky.social
When Plato is outlawed only outlaws will read Plato.
this ill, yellowish light
i look for burly outlines
masked gestapo · staging a snatch
—radio same, why
concrete overpass · calm as ever—
tourbillion effigy
you should be moved · your mouth filled
with the uttered screams of rage
as cars inch forward · answer their email
"America’s steady descent into barbarism.
The National Review has a post titled 'Don’t Follow the False Sirens of International Law' — one person comments 'There is no international law. There is only conquest. Greenland is next.' "
—@kimdorman.bsky.social
"A few light taps upon the pane..."
"It’s a wicked world in all meridians." —@mobydiockatsea.bsky.social
"...remember in misty delirium..."
through my own windshield
no bullets were sent flying
some scattered droplets
A doctor attempted to provide medical aid to Renee Good in Minneapolis. Trump regime ICE troopers stopped him, claimed to have their own medics, while blocking paramedics down the road as well. When the doctor on scene identified himself as a physician, ICE responded: "I don't care."
— Anonymous (@youranoncentral.bsky.social) January 7, 2026 at 6:10 PM
[image or embed]
last boat out of Lisbon
lemming-against monstrous
Schrödinger's cursed catnip
an occult alt-shewstone
roosts sepia redshift
raucous with fake driftglass
On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs.
"Frog and Toad waited a long time." —@frogandtoadbot.bsky.social
"Roland Topor...designed the animated science fiction feature FANTASTIC PLANET (1973).."
"WEDNESDAY'S TO-DO LIST (Anagrammed Lines)
Wednesday's to-do list:
Style woods and tides.
Witness old, dead toys.
Doodle witty sadness."
—@anthonmyetherin.bsky.social
squidrunner derided
do you rue? bricks wrixled,
needle near empty
in stillness call catnip
caraway. hair tangled
needle near empty
City Line Park peppered
with pinchbeck potential
needle near empty
empty empty
bothsidesing swavory
flesh-eating bacteria
pale cerulean pearshape
riddled poxwith sockeye
swasivious solvent
here to sub for near-miss
the death toll tilting
in the part-time rhyme scheme
one more cyber war-buick
shining wind-dredge sinus
one more terrible tap dance
amputees are seized with
"Yet if it ever be your fate to write,
Let your Productions pass the strictest Hands,
Mine and your Father's, and not see the Light,
'Till Time and Care have ripen'd ev'ry Line.
What you keep by you, you may change and mend,
But words once spoke can never be recall'd."
—Horace, Ars Poetica 386-390 tr Roscommon 1743
Notes on Unbearable Stupidity.
"Some of you never browsed in a Blockbuster for 3 hours and it shows."
—@michelleroy78.bsky.social
This is how you talk to a bully.
Liberty beach-wrecked
not the horseman, not the girl
—on that soon to be
realization—but the apes
who thought it a great triumph
