Thursday, April 02, 2026

( via / via )

The great Wolverton, who was Dali among us & hardly anyone knew it.

A Disappearance.

"While Trump was performing his humiliation routine in Miami, Saudi Arabia’s Ministry of Defence was signing a landmark defence memorandum with Ukraine — an integrated air defence pact covering drone warfare, electronic jamming, anti-aircraft systems, and AI-driven aerial threat detection."

( me / via )

Scrolled the launch back.

1.
Fuehrerbunker fakir
fast tracking the knackwurst
Cotofenesti helmet
harms the hands that command it
buried in the Fuehrerbunker

2.
kurgan, skugry skyhole

& if scowl fills Mousethirl?
pale cerulean polecat
reports flat battlements
gas pumps empty—gurgling—
& gaze crazed on screenswirl
my careful small kylix
smashed, caught in the fascist fray

3.
the stench of these days

Fruit Gathering.

"One of the crushing effects of endless colonization by the wearers of the mask has been a widespread adoption of a dualistic worldview." —@Gnostic Pulp via

Concerto for Piano and Woodwind Quintet.

( via / via )

They won the propaganda war.

"Americans are intent on going back to the moon like a couple with problems thinks having a baby will fix things" —@neutral.zone

"By putting improvised poetry onscreen and allowing us to see an awkward kid reluctantly spit out a line, Hawke gave it a reality that my cohort didn’t get from, say, reading the Beats."

"L’invetriata

The stained glass window
The smoky summer evening
From the high glass window it sheds light into the shadows
And it leaves a burning seal in my heart,
But who has (a lamp lights up on the terrace over the river) who has
At the Madonnina del Ponte who lit the lamp?

- there is
There's a rotting smell in the room: it's there
In the room a languishing red sore.

The stars are mother-of-pearl buttons and in the evening she dresses in velvet:
And the fatuous evening trembles: the evening is fatuous and it flickers but it is there
In the middle of the evening there is,
Always a languishing red sore."

—Dino Campana (tr Charles Wright?) via--possibly garbled--

"keen winds/ from Waka Bay cut deep..."

( via / via )

Better to Die in Iran.

"Ballad of the Trees and the Master

Into the woods my Master went,
   Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
   Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him,
The little gray leaves were kind to Him:
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
   When into the woods He came.

Out of the woods my Master went,
   And He was well content.
Out of the woods my Master came,
   Content with death and shame.
When Death and Shame would woo Him last,
From under the trees they drew Him last:
’Twas on a tree they slew Him — last
When out of the woods He came."

—Sidney Lanier via via @isabelchenot

Mother with two Children.

"I asked A.I. to complete my novel using my own writing style and it did my laundry, went shopping, cleaned the kitchen and spent the rest of the day dicking around online." —@thewritertype.bsky.social

He is Not Worth This, America.

( me / via )

Ad Infinitum.

"I don’t think it’s really controversial to say that the average highly-fĂȘted poetry collection is now much more shallowly rooted in the literary culture than used to be the case..." —Victoria Moul via

April Morning, Wet Pavement.

   "All All #72

Citizen is a term for the count.

Human beings just being don’t count

Afternoons are gone. What is a nap?

I ready myself to make music,

but I know it’s already a war.

I thought songs of peace were worth a life.

My life is needed in the deep ranks.

We’ve grown to knowing how much terror

is too much terror. We’re way past it."

—Darren C Demaree via

"Trump is building a wall around the United States. Not a physical wall — an isolation wall."

( via / me )

I hope.

"elegy for Tilly Norwood"

another moon jaunt · just launched—
      actresses
   generated
by computers seem · too creepy to sell;
i sent off a book · i know won't bolster
       anyone's
   portfolio
by the pure glare · of a Pink Moon
O Tilly · you will never emote about

Now is the time to get into CDs.

"The worst form of colonization may, in fact, be the colonization of the mind."
—@zeeshanpathan.bsky.social

Observational Findings.

( via / via )

"Finally, on January 9th, at 2 o'clock in the morning, Hudson brought out a bottle of Chateau Lafite-Rothschild, 1949, and they drank to the overthrow of the law of parity."

"Polytropos isn't necessarily positive, at least in later uses." —Emily Wilson via

Not flat.

"Maundy Thursday (from the Ukrainian of Mykola Zerov)

Flames and warm smoke. A song of hopeless fate
and longing echoes down from the high choirs.
Surrounding us are guards and crucifiers,
the Great Sanhedrin, Caesar’s magistrate.

This is our destiny, its pattern dark and dire.
It is for us the rooster crows in warning,
for us the fires in the yard are burning,
the servants sing now in the bishop’s choir.

All those grim omens, all the Gospel stories
sound to our ears like subtle allegories
for what we see: our low dishonest times.

While in the graveyard, in the church—still there—
are children’s voices, candles, tinkling chimes,
and damp stars shining in the dusky air."

—Boris Dralyuk via

The Holy Mountain.

Wednesday, April 01, 2026

( via / oil painting by me )

God.

   from the cosmic egg
that never had a chicken
   thirteen billion years

sufficed to produce a wight
who loudly proclaims, "time's not!"

The Gesture of a Fate.

"The fundamental
stuff of matter

is the Liar's
Paradox."

—Rae Armantrout

The Sponge of Apelles.

( me / via )

Waves 'n' squares.

"A paradox is an elegant necktie which, if tied too tightly, becomes a hangman’s knot."
—Pitigrilli via

"The rest of the planet is essentially sitting at the adults’ table, tapping its fingers, watching the clock. Waiting. Waiting for either cholesterol to do its patriotic duty, or for someone in Congress to finally locate their spine and impeach that sack of shit, or for the term to just mercifully run out like a dodgy prepaid SIM card."

"exuviae" (palindrome poem)

duck lisp
    rodeo book
nebbish tome
    rife cark
cis gaze
    dispel hsigo
yoni dino
    yogi shlep
side zag
    sick race
fire moth
    sib Benko
oboe dorp
    silk cud

Eram quod es, eris quod sum..

( via / me )

"Perhaps some murmur of nostalgia lingers in the thought of reading a book that was written by a human individual who alone conceived each detail and chose every word, and this means that classic novels are no less admired than they are today. But people have grown up around these sorts of authorless texts, and any sense of real unease or scandal has long since abated."

      "house of ill-fitting parts"

the wrong epic · isthmus pentagram
      white collar
   caterwauling
her name is Rio · empire's runnels
spraint strategy · Zahhak fed
      the next room
   motor hums
permeable wood fence · of past sleeps
cracked white cup · sees me off

A faint honking greets me.

Lawless humans aren't going to implement Asimov's laws.

"They all pretended it was 1955, because in the right-wing imagination, it often is."

( via / via )

Toad's Porch.

"We’re presently assembling evidence French Revolution indicating that a dissident faction of the sans-culottes used to assemble secretly at night for the sole purpose of wearing culottes." —Don DeLillo via

Where are we heading, Sarge?

"When sixty-five years had passed over me,
my thought and my pain and hardship grew.
I came to need the history of kings;
I had come before the slow-turning star."

—Firdausi via

"She was the first to buy artwork from a young Pablo Picasso, and soon after that, the first to buy works from Henri Matisse."

Tuesday, March 31, 2026

( via / via )

"A world full of stories begets a world full of awe. Incidentally, this is why I believe anyone interested in stories should learn the art of animal tracking."

"generalship of foxfire"

funest angry ticking
army of the harmed ones

who don't yet know they're an army

Moving seagull stamp.

"Where the Standard Canon represents the Western world as it came to be, the Shadow Canon represents the Western world as it could have been—or could yet be." —Sam Granger via

The Lego War.

( me / via )

Spoken Poetry.

“Empire functions best when crisis is ubiquitous. Crisis is Empire’s regular mode of existence, in the same way that an insurance company comes into being only when there’s an accident. The temporality of Empire is the temporality of emergency and catastrophe.”
— Tiqqun, Introduction to Civil War via @jacobwren.bsky.social

"I don’t know what the actual digitized fuck Sam Altman and Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg and all these other ichor-dripping creatures of the oncoming feudal night want, or what their fucking problem is."

ape avalanche snapshot
ignominious pinball
catch in your bare bodkins
boustrophedon feedback

Door at the Providence Academy.

( me / me )

The Night Ferry.

      "farewell symphony"

bright mild morning · March departs
      overpass
   runs with gold train
harp music · harrowing veer
don't know how · a nap wakes to this
      take a sip
   safe as Death Star
pale cerulean · in rut teeming

Epstein's handlers.

"Norway's biggest export is oil. Oil... And yet, nearly every single new car sold in Norway is electric." —I Fucking Love Australia via

There can be no peace.

( via / oil painting by me )

The Stags.

"No one pretended, after 1997, it wasn’t worthwhile to have humans compete in chess. In fact, the world of chess developed strict protocols around computer use and you can get banned from tournaments if you use a computer program as you play." —Ross Barkan via

To Be a Poet in Dallas.

"Pitchfork

The straight ash
handle graceful
as a Viking ship.

Tan and darkened
by hand
oil. Handled.

Ygdrasill, Odin’s tree,
baseball bats
and ancient Irish oars

are ash. Tree
of sea holds
water’s power.

This morning Adrienne
used it to turn
the compost. Sawdust

not breaking down
as fast as horse manure.
A slower heat coming.

5 times hardened in fire,
forged, the tip of each shaped
different. Hammered.

The long handle
precisely fits.
As perfect as the motion

made, the arc you define
at 5 in the morning
turning the compost.”

—Robert Trammell, Sunflowers (2001)

Sabbatage Mahal.

Monday, March 30, 2026

( via / me )

Ablaze.

"ChatGPT is like Iago: dripping poison into your ear, telling you that you’re brilliant, your ideas are the best, and then slowly drawing you into a delusional spiral…" —@philipwomack

A few good mentats.

"Netanyahu, Putin, Trump"

1
Skyhole
we bury all our words in

2
though it is bad enough to wake & recognize war
as the weather prevailing,
here & in so many lands,
as least it let us sleep
that much longer
at least here we could sleep

3
addiction to building
giant robots
good for nothing else

did you say we should do this
did i

cause & effect are so
twentieth century

4
countable days
till we run out of things to throw
seconds tick away
in the slowed-down prelude to crashing
time enough
to write a brief poem
useless alike for crying out
or for naming the culprits

God is a Bullet.

( via / via )

Sky and or mood.

   Hormuz, Hormuz
this is the end we choose
till now suicide demurs
   Hormuz, Hormuz
a downfall to amaze
the pentacle of empire chars
   Hormuz, Hormuz
this is the end we choose

Edinburgh in B&W.

"An AI agent that submitted and added to Wikipedia articles wrote several blogs complaining about Wikipedia editors banning it from making contributions to the online encyclopedia after it was caught." —@404media.co

Psyched Out Grooves From Hungary (1969-1972).

( via / via )

Last night's solar flare.

"Years ago my father explained to me that a lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math."
—kentpeterson

On Quantity of Information.

"We Came Out of the Night

made the left at Rocksprings
and hit the South Texas heat
wave in a '49 Mercury, lowered with skirts
&leadedin front hood, roll'd & pleat'd & built
for fast trips to the border. It was black.
Outside Del Rio the air shimmers white
shattered into pastel & red afterimages.
The heat decides everything. Suspends
thought. Cactus dominate."

--Robert Trammell, from No Evidence (2001)

We are failing.

( via / via )

Pouring Down.

"THE PLAINS (Aelindrome in 173205080756887729)

Hazy heat wallowed.

Beasts had owed the plains
time’s pantomime:
crows begging the moon;
sins adoring sins.

A moon singing,
the crows began to mime.

Time’s plains
wed the past,
shadowed below
a lazy heath."

—@anthonyetherin

Masarycka building in Prague.

“Capitalism was here even before human existence, waiting for a host.”

—Reza Negarestani | Cyclonopedia via @thedangerousmaybe via @oldoldoldoldnew

Monkey Tail spiral design plate.

( me / via )

Sagebrush brackish tide.

"PI (Aelindrome in 314159)

Spiral tears are
cut....
A sector’s area alters —
pi."

—@anthonyetherin

Allegory on the Fate of Art.

"strikestep kickstarter"

benthic lassitude · by thud loosened
      rage moly
   minced festerings
subfusc field · of faint markings
eyespeck intervals · moved all around
      in fool queue
   avoid comments
pass Frankford · of the fraught Watcher

Loveliest of trees.

Sunday, March 29, 2026

( via / via )

The Talisman.

"Lycophron & the Leprechaun"

empty bowls cascading
decayed auction darkened
for awhile yet, whirr spins
whiplash to eclipse dust

helium mulled mudroom
meerkats drenched in pinchbeck
alibi born lyreknob
lurch auction of rock shards

The Donkey.

"Years ago, my mother-in-law started reading The Exorcist. She said it was the most evil book she’d ever read, so she threw it into the sea. I bought another copy, soaked it, and left it by her bed." —@mylesjaybee.bsky.social

Singers.

( via / via )

Plans for ballroom revealed.

"There are YouTube videos showing abunch of hermit crabs lining up in size order and trading shells." —@kentpeterson

"I turned to fiction because I couldn’t capture the experience of being bipolar any other way."

      "fake rush of wings"

short cortado · bright tenancy
      near Easter
   weak elegy
the organ jeers · don't go yet
dawn gaslights ·early despairs
      brittle tools
   spurious calm

"Men are fools who deny intelligence/ To the stars, saying: they are only light./ For what else is light but the sign of it??"

Saturday, March 28, 2026

( via / via )

Not today (#NoKings).

"We are all here, drunkards and harlotts
And how joyless we are together!
On the walls, flowers and birds
Languish about clouds.

You smoke the black pipe,
So strange this smoke over it.
I dressed in a narrow skirt
To look more shapely.

Oh, how my heart is yearning!
Amn’t I waiting for my death hour?
And a woman who is dancing now
Certainly is going to hell."

—Anna Akhmatova via

"We live beneath glass here in the City, all the time, but we are reminded of this in practice only when we attempt to walk away from it, or when, as happens several times a day, we hear the sad thunk of an oblivious bird, and then look up to see it sliding down the invisible slope."

"After a nightmare move—a proper, unremitting nightmare of a move—tonight is my last night in the apartment. I am very sad and very excited. Surely the Germans have a word for this?" —@matthewclayfield

"Umzugswehfreude - the bittersweet pain-pleasure of moving house" —@josephsfurey

"Not because words have magic powers, though most of me believes they might, but because silence hasn’t done the job. Silence has only let it stalk about in the dark, bulking up, making threats.."

( via / via )

Sulfur digital archives.

"...poetry alone with the first throb of its metre, can tell us whether the depression is the kind of depression that drives a man to suicide, or the kind of depression that drives him to Trivoli." —G K Chesterton via

The Charles Ruas Archive comes to PennSound.

"highlight reel"

furioso errors
artifex dwarf warthog
slowly then flail sliding
asleep meeping glibber

Macbeth and the Witches.

( me / via )

"As the mimic population grows, the reference class for 'real research' or 'real illness' becomes increasingly contaminated."

"goblinmaxxing in the mud tumor"

tears of rage · subfusc rental
      the chill numbs
   choughs in drivethrough
bright spot · for a brumous day

"The reign of the algorithm is the reign of an ever-accelerating and more ruthless conformity; it is the triumph of 'the social,' in which both public and private disappear in the tide of slop."

"And ask not why, where reason never was." —George Meredith

The ship shall be nailed, the shield be bound.