( me / via )

The pleasure junks of destruction.

"OF SWORD AND SORCERY (Redivider)

Hero, deal one insight here:
Make swords quicken.
Trust tomes’ words.
Cast lessons,
to ward
the mage’s wand....
Eras lance sand, drag on.
Soft
wines
talk
in golden
trances
tonight.

He rode alone.
In sight,
he remakes words....
'Quick, entrust to me swords, castles, sons!'
Toward them,
ages wander,
as lances and dragons of twine
stalking old entrances
to night."

—Anthony Etherin

"The elevated language we associate with him is more an artifact of stuffy translation than a feature of the poems themselves."

"The deleterious effects of not having a hobby are becoming a defining point in this cultural moment—and who is poised to help? That’s right: the autistics. Job fair day where we all set up tables explaining our deep dives and give people a hand out, a path back to society."
—@saramchenry.bsky.social

Rabbit contemplates eternity on a quiet morning.