Saturday, August 22, 2026
Gelände (Part III). In Nürnberg.
"And lies all withering on Methymna's shore" —Royston's Lycophron
Free Jeffers in wide format--i love this. (via)
"Another avenue of income came from those who were willing to buy macabre items from the hangman: the rope used at the hanging; the clothing, jewelry, and property of the executed person, often all sold to circuses, museums, or collectors." —The August Journal via
known antidote inning
whiny psalm
only to get there mitigate
savage whelkjuice
carolling sunrise
fell poem devouring
snowball lump
look at dog school facecrime
known antidote ironclad
Friday, August 21, 2026
This is exactly the kind of book we usually manage to ignore.
"bloodstained rune"
slides shuffled · of sheer atrocities
discoloration · practiced cough
working to defeat · wasps out back
whose slim emissaries · through the thick air slide
"(Tyrants, regicide is too good for you!)" —Finnegans Wake
Investigated for Being 'Antifa'.
The Idea of a Poetry Conservatory.
"It [The Rouse] is painstakingly realistic yet haunted by presences somewhere between gods and mollusks." —The Boston Review via
Forgotten Treasures: a Symposium.
"fathomfumble"
night roar, cactus rescue
car thig loud, maybe
full claw ploy
"charade"
fanebruise from a soft launch
quarter moon or so
describe seamless · execution
prowl the dim rooms
dodging the windows · dream
of perfected procedures
burning · burning away
the intricate ceramic lamp
i made for camping
i discarded on the road
"Un difficulté est une lumière. Une difficulté insurmontable est un soleil."
—Paul Valery via
How I Solved the Library of Babel.
“For ours is a most fictile world; and man is the most fingent plastic of creatures.” —Carlyle
The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll.
"O (Only two vowels, alternating)
Long I trod, dislodging rocks,
blind on Io’s wilds….
Now I hold
this cosmic god,
this fossil of iron;
this lost lion
with torn wings:
Now,
I hold
Io’s sphinx."
—@anthonyetherin.bsky.social
Thursday, August 20, 2026
Decent sized M8-class solar flare.
"On a Palindromic Street"
Darjeeling taste nostalgic
taken away Reichstag
& cold toast
the way forward wary
call it tightrope
invisible
the machine—clunk!—shudders
sharing the wide spiderweb
of chaos
careen like a rorqual
& carry on
Darjeelingless
"It technically falls under the category of ‘Dino Synth’- In the late 2010s or early 2020s, someone took the basic formula of Dungeon Synth, but instead of trying to evoke images of castles and wizards, they set out to evoke velociraptors and ankylosaurs." —Marat via
The aesthetics of Arab AI slop.
"...as if some of the turpitude..."
"Probably the most important thing you can do if you give a shit about non-establishment poetry is to archive shit. Become a small time librarian, or at least a keeper of lists and records of some kind. In 5-10 years, or sooner, nobody is going to know what the hell happened and a bunch of websites will be dead. Substack either will not exist or will be totally unrecognizable (there’s little good here anyway, poetry-wise, but still). Books with small print runs will be gone. Maybe Internet Archive will exist, or they’ll shut it down, and your ability to read an enormous amount of valuable poetry will depend on geography and access to physical archives in some library. Then in 25 years some online antiquarian will come along and start digging stuff up, and everyone will think, “what happened to these people? there was all this great shit and it just kind of vanished.” And the poets will either have given up or stopped publishing or will have continued in their weird corner, while all the most predictable dogshit will continue to flourish at all the podiums of the world. Ofc not everybody can afford to buy all the books out there, but mapping and listing and reviewing and coordinating convos and just RECORDING what the hell we’re doing is important bc NO ONE ELSE IS GOING TO DO IT." —RM Haines
"As much, the fold yields light."
“All is laughter, all is dust, all is nothing,
for all that is cometh from unreason.”
—Glycon, The Greek Anthology, x.124 (tr Paten)
The Greek can be found in an article called “Greek Laughter and the Problem of the Absurd.” (A chapter in this.) The original has for ‘unreason’: αλογων. (I made a version in Lojban once.)
Wednesday, August 19, 2026
Zine made with pink eraser prints.
esters esemplastic
high shining
tinned asteroid landfall
& shallow graves
hyaline prospect
bug still moving migrant
heavily
mitigated witness
for what harsh end
cloudily forecast
coffee beans in belfry
wax amber
buffalo herd circled
into the edge
shelter atomic
ping ping rogue pangolin
jetlag fierce
pallid linoleum
reflects lampad
watching the feature
spark suppressor hissing
"I feel like there’s an alternate universe in which Natalie Harp started dyeing her hair black instead of platinum blonde and ended up being the kind of girl who wrote letters to famous serial killers in prison" —@marawilson.bsky.social
"Not everything is iconic. Some things are just emblematic." —@nickmamatas729830
we want Smooth, night-withered
wambly course forced on us
kitchen's hiss
comes from that shape
disease escaped from · by the skin of our flim flam
wasp-circled cesspool
scintillating hate mail
plunged into
plastic vespers
disease carried · into the cold fluorescents
The Dream Songs and The Skeleton Tree.
"lynchings tally"
throbbing rattle · in returning shade
day upon day of fire
my box of words · left back there
doesn't need me now
"The battlefield is everywhere."
"Of course, as is often the case with potent memetic quotes, this one bears only superficial resemblance to anything that the Italian Marxist philosopher Antonio Gramsci actually said. What he did write, in his Prison Notebooks essays while he was imprisoned by the Fascist regime in the 1930s, was:
La crisi consiste appunto nel fatto che il vecchio muore e il nuovo non può nascere: in questo interregno si verificano i fenomeni morbosi più svariati.
Which, translated literally into English, gives:
The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born: in this interregnum a great variety of morbid phenomena occur." via
Tuesday, August 18, 2026
"I am a fugitive from voices and places, while the howling winds of violence destroy the fields of our language, turning the words that were ours into a cry trapped in my jugular vein." —Omar Moussa via
Demon attacking the East India Company.
"murder house"
blood-dimmed tide flats tarried
quarter moon or so
martyrsequin
mowing the blood-dimmed tide flats
ribtape shadow
Chicxulub
doomscrolling through the real changes
"final defeat of the wasps"
clyte without recording
cull from washed-out colors
squeaky hinge
desert Corvette vise-grip
herald blackwinged
averted gaze blazing
powerless stray story
stigma of wig powder
greenish shade
atop Deco tor-crave
shelter thorny
terrible fast pastime
no record smirk wrathful
herald black
rummage among pumpkins
armored irk corridor
Hastur's foxhole
ev'rywhere knife wharfside
leave this record lackey
listless & miss most of it
small talk or smores sprocket
smattering of catnip
the cars swerve
for closed roadlanes
write the lean runeword
in not-yet ruined botfield
cars don't swerve
to cross against cairn-storms
suasivious
crow's shake of the head bedrock
"When Elvis met The Beatles, he was living in a house in Hollywood that had been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, and he was renting it from the Shah of Iran." —@rmhaines
I grew up in the days of "duck & cover" & once used a protractor on a map of my city to estimate blast radius effects relative to downtown. There was a bomb shelter in the science museum at Fair Park (documentation of it can be found online), while the closest official shelter to my house was two miles away in the basement of a bank.
"cane for show, cane for real"
all the houses
are bigger on the inside
siege of having surfaces
burnt umber somberness
watering
soundless sound of toast
a scheme tottering
staggers on
what of goebbels in the decoy jet
not his valet
sequence of actions
revealing values
a second piece of toast
Monday, August 17, 2026
fierce surreal cerulean
& the surd martyred
thick black thoughts
traiking athirst
lame projects · leering fool's gold
full rendition fleshhook
faulty cult
news breaking
on the brick wheel
"We’d rather have a flawed answer than admit we don’t know."
"When you said it before, a snake’s-hand was something in talk. Now it’s a place.…
All right. I told you about Path: Path is like a snake, it curls around the whole of Little Belaire with its head in the middle and the tip of its tail by Buckle cord’s door, but only someone who knows Little Belaire can see where it runs. To someone else, it would seem to run off in all directions. So when you run along Path, and here is something that looks to be Path, but you find it is only rooms interlocking in a little maze that has no exits but back to Path—that’s a snake’s-hand. It runs off the snake of Path like a set of little fingers. It’s also called a snake’s-hand because a snake has no hands, and likewise there is only one Path. But a snake’s-hand is also more: my story is a Path, too, I hope; and so it must have its snake’s-hands. Sometimes the snake’s-hands in a story are the best part, if the story is a long one." —Engine Summer via
"There’s no such thing as 'cyberbullying'. It’s just bullying." —Carole Cadwalladr via
"He was simply neglected and held in low regard."
"trapezohedron prevalence"
1.
crape myrtle corridor
crass bladed assertion
gold glare with cerulean
regular dawn onset
Klosterheim
my balance shows
the dark web · has my number
programmatic kindness
can't fetch on my shirt tails
names name many things
next to ghosts disastrous
ripped up signs
left on the curb
longer a time · than i figured
2.
oldthink's grue gravity
Grodek's rawdog karma
phantomnate
the tanline Oort
witching hour · almost a known shape
alter timeline Toltec
attrition last wishbone
from my hands
its flight hindered
divided candle · cobalt basin
whereunder pinned emmets
be orange agented
second swirl
in the chord sway
we die like splotches · on a pixel esplanade
two moons to drape tinsel
tally uncounted desert
roll robot
with a cam'ra
& the red sky · smiles at rest
you wander lost landscapes
of last thesterness garbled
report back
with a pert tune
limbs scattered · in the mild morning
3.
perilous
the perne wander
between blades
between bloodstains
to narrate
like a nodskull
where ash steams
from the stern darg
ruth & ruthless
diverged in a wood
janken diamat
in the air as it is
in the streets as they are
salvage of the sarsar
the old route of shelling
"I am alone with silence." —Arvo Pärt
Sunday, August 16, 2026
"these fancies yielded to that one portentous something in the picture’s midst. That once found out, and all the rest were plain" —@mobydickatsea.bsky.social
"Listening to ‘salon music’ has never done anyone any harm!"
"The Heart
Dark anxiety of death, as when the gold
Died in the grey cloud.
An evening in November.
A crowd of needy women stood at the bare gate
Of the slaughterhouse;
Rotten meat and guts fell
Into every basket;
Horrible food.
The blue dove of the evening
Brought no forgiveness.
The dark cry of trumpets
Travelled in the golden branches
Of the soaked elms,
A frayed flag
Smoking with blood,
To which a man listens
In wild despair..
All your days of nobility, buried
In that red evening."
—Georg Trakl via (tr O Sheppard)
"The concept of a 'career' has been replaced by a series of elaborate heists."
"SUN AND MOON (Palindrome by Pairs)
A sun’s lair
is a rare moon.
More,
Ra’s aria is Luna’s."
—@anthonyetherin.bsky.social
Virginia Woolf: "The objection to the purple patch… is not that it is purple but that it is a patch." (via)
"Something about digging a hole in drought-baked clay makes it difficult to think about the fact that pedophilia has moved from the last taboo to something like a job requirement in the Grand Old Party." —Mark Slouka via
"Martian half-slip"
black earth overlaid with patchy snow
dilucular* clownhat
wasp curl
against worn red brick
invisible fingers
constantly snatching
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* e.g. 'antelucan' (Barnes)
"La Bohème positions itself as the first specialty coffee roastery and café in the Czech Republic."
Saturday, August 15, 2026
"raggeder towel slope"
surplus of quids glumly
taut glossolalia
elegy
in cobweb script
Sulawesi dark · my veins burnish
print a file & vorpal
widderproof nerfball
synergy
between two spooks
Sulawesi dark · my veins savage
"...many will leave the field in any case rather than deal with endless proofslop."
If we have to keep using these words, then i would find your idea [neo-Platonic Marxism] by far the most palatable of them all. (via)
" 'It is true that tragedy arouses pity and terror,' said Nance. 'In me terror is getting the upper hand.' " —@ivycomptonburnett.bsky.social
The Unsuspected. (After browsing in this.)
"welcomed pavement"
labyrinthine looth query
hospital socks, Spätstil
half-muted matutinal
rack of pills
derelict Calvary
muffled crunch of far-off
phantasms spasming
slime monster mash
these walls unshaken
all cries of hurt creatures
find their way here
vend my rigamarole careful
to include their names
no one knows their names
with bright plastic masks
front the abyss
hour by hour like a climb
i'm really good at dodging
wield apothegms
against onrushing night
labyrinth looth query
"arcane confessional"
reflection of a white metal chair
turquoise hovering
this hour & angle
out of the Aztec knife
we all struggle t'ward
& stragglers mock
twelvestep pyramid
white metal chair
"You’ll be able to tell a lot about a person’s political ethics by when they got off the bus.."
vroucolacharchy- rule by vampires
Friday, August 14, 2026
"All the long moonlit nights I dream'd of Ule,
And in the dark half of the month, my heart was there."
—Frederick Tuckerman
newsroom crepitance
silhouetted in the window
three or four reasons
trash that wants taking out
"These are handwritings, the only ones."