( via / me )

The sheer psychological torment of watching other human beings being exterminated.

“Kriegspiel”

–A dead wind snaps thy flame
maybe it’s already out, and the wind
prowls a cold wick. No,
i swear by the blue at its base,
what puddles here and dribbles wax is the event horizon.

–A hollow wind tugs thy fire
i have heard that song before,
though its cadence should have stayed outside.
Storms i can endure, not
my sand-self swept repeatedly by surf.

–A stale wind wiggles thy light
As this room will remain after darkening,
and this grief yield to others,
i close my fist over the candlestick.
Once i was resigned to live without choices.

(1983)

"And it feels strategic that so many of our – how do I say – architects have been erased from the public narrative."

"Millennial children; let me make the case for #books.
if authoritarian digital coup removes vital information from govt. websites? Books are your friend." —@katepond.bsky.social

Intake, 1964.