"night traffic
i see
on a mountain path"
—@poemexe.com
all pretending toll
termite-gnaws the murmurs
pale cerulean pose
repair shirks its carol
last of the lean tests
Caligula's signet
all-pretending tide
tailspin pale cerulean
Elka Coffee Service by Jaroslav Ježek (1957).
quotidian-quelled
queries dust the air
in the blindfoldfond
fugue of drizzle droog
if enough thefts nag
will noontide impugn
king's halo of haze
& halt the great fault
not tidy but tart
will tell Cheetoh's knell
wearyingly haywire
wanes malicious reign
We would need a control group of not-crazy humans.
In Patriarchy No One Can Hear You Scream.
"If, after hearing my songs, just one human being is inspired to say something nasty to a friend, or perhaps to strike a loved one, it will all have been worthwhile" - Tom Lehrer. via @lordbonkers.bsky.social
Verger, Winter Afternoon, Galilee Chapel.
brillig July jewelheist
jade pool & unpaid bills
baffle myself burdened
with buzzword that doesn't
"Sojourner
Shepherd's Law, Northumberland
The fettered hill.
The skull.
Old stone, among nettles fallen, near.
Her light brown hair.
The brief bales.
The bared hills, the load-bearing hills, the hills of Lammermuir.
Her coming headlong here."
--Gillian Allnut via @rhunedhel.bsky.social
Menacing drive with palm trees.
"We are in rhythm with the old ocean: it rises irregularly twice in twenty-four hours, and then repents of rising; and so largely do we." --RA Lafferty
"They are doing nothing. It's the best thing, the thing we are best at, but everyone does it differently. More art should be about doing nothing..." --Debatable Land
What i Did in Sculpture Class.
Mothra in the moonglade
or manuscript tip jar
portage of purge startle
pimp, only emperor
funest Mothra northstar
nattering fluff stuffing
as cruel hungers hurl us
hence, ice cream emperor
these dog days · adorned with rife
helter skelter · scoriac swevens
pale cerulean · riddlesome dome's
arglebargle · bullies on steroids
private prisons · reprise Auschwitz
boogie woogie · waged betimes
I am the Darkness of the Night.
"for you too, my wrens
but nightfall brings
winter begins"
--@poemexe.com
"Toad sat on the edge of his bed. 'Blah,' said Toad. 'I feel down in the dumps.'
'Why?' asked Frog.
'I am thinking about tomorrow,' said Toad."
--@frogandtoadbot.bsky.social
The First Planned Migration of an Entire Country.
ætherskiff stepped skimply
skiing across horseflesh
a curtained hour ill-used
only to build hell-daze
costumes & sets sifted
savagely to lodge once
year lost in the levee's
loosening now pressed back
R A Lafferty and the Brainwright.
"THE FAILED CARTOGRAPHER (Palindrome)
Demand a hill, at solid nadir….
Damn it!
One morn,
I saw I was in Rome,
not in Madrid,
and I lost all I had named...."
--@anthonyetherin.bsky.social
Robot dances, until it doesn't.
"birth rates aren't down because of woke, they're down because it's terrifying to raise kids in a fascist hellscape" --@jediofgallifrey.bsky.social
"Authorities won't be going door to door, committing every trans person."
"Sometimes the historical dictionary offers solace through the existence of an obsolete word that is sorely needed now. One of them is ‘respair’, recorded just once, in the 15th century. It means fresh hope, and a recovery from despair." --@susiedent.com
goblin garnish · a gift spewed
aspired sporange · spurious touchdown
bear fat blended · with bold min'rals
watch scatterlings weave · weird diaspora
from a clay cloud · on a dark day
the streets strand · empty casings
the Æther irey · with intimate scorn
roiled hourly · rumbled richly
has its tilt tale · tilled by idiots
between fathoms · forage no harm
attempting talk · or tender silence
a burning blaze · follows the pilgrim
& words wither · into wasp nests lost
a summer's sulk · a sentence finished
"i wish we had a sane and stable national politics so we could treat 'lebron james sends cease and desist to AI company making pregnant videos of him' the most important story of the week that it deserves to be" --@lauren.rotatingsandwiches.com
it will not be hard
to let this slip from our minds
in the days to come
the ones who were standing by
the ones who thought they were right
Finnish Star Wars palindrome poem.
grasp fades at
greebled whisper
the pale sky
scoured by failure
"Fairbridge hadn't been loosed of any of his old agonies, but at least he had learned that they were funny." --RA Lafferty
Cheesehenge. (Which is almost a better word than it is a concept.)
"Differences are not spoken of and at once there are none, because the bullies have won, like those snails in Moorea, and we all recall how pleasant and rewarding and eccentric, if you can say that about something spiral, the old snails were." —Debatable Land
"...(if only John Ronald could appear and tell us what this passage actually means!)"
"When blistered
with lack of goodbye
that is when the soul
becomes banshee-like"
—@sunblissful.bsky.social
the twister's twee · twerk-vestal
i pass perking · with brass piffle
hexagon hive · with wax hunger
false-fortified
"...form as proceeding, and shape as superinduced..."
"i waited
the melting snowman
a woman sits alone
a pelican's glide"
—@poemexe.com
"His disposition did not allow for the things upon which Alec feared he had wasted his life, shades, vagaries and tentative hues." —Debatable Land
"...we wander the stands, stalls and hallways of a notional trade fair, and where the illusion of cosy intimacy and friendliness – the decorated cubicles for meetings, the drinks receptions, the musical performances – are at odds with the corporate reality of such gatherings, which are essentially transactional rather than poetic." (via @mjohnharrison.bsky.social)
robots reading robots writing robots grading
—riddles no trade partner—
brave new world for Wyvern
to wander like Raven conned
Facsimile engravings by Benjamin Pouncy.
cicalatide kidnap
cancer to a dance beat
all those icebergs faze me
Illig tells the knell's clasp
Holstein sky or skirl-trace
askew we bin lentils
watch this switchblade case me
Willard Red Hat's ratfink
"Lunchables for Men (they're the same thing as the original, but the box is black with dark gray letters)" --@stefanthinks.bsky.social
"These wastelanded areas are, paradoxically, vital for the colonial project."
"WE HAVE LONG SINCE LEFT THE INFORMATION AGE. WELCOME TO THE AGE OF NOISE" --@hthrflwrs.bsky.social
"Certainly some magick happened."
dark work on the dork line
daedal spider's needfire
sharp sheep claim a shipment
shelter falters meltwise
Killing Joke thread with many links.
"It’s a gnostic noir detective series of poems."
"fireworks show ...
all the migrants (except me)
on the rooftop
think they are on the way
to somewhere brighter"
—Chen-ou Liu
Atlas Poetica, 30, 2017 via @evecastle.bsky.social
"You know that scene in an action movie when the bad guy runs through the kitchen of a restaurant and pulls down all the pots and pans behind him to slow down his pursuers? We're in that part of the Trump presidency." --@jasonkander.bsky.social
Attic Windows of the Infinite.
Tired of being talked to, a kind of hydrophobia.
"Everyone
Everyone has written beautifully
of things that haunt the decade,
of reasons for absconding
with a history of pain,
of the dull shackled brain,
and everyone’s come up a glorious
idiot—still blind to the fire
that licks and laps our ankles.
Myself included: I’ve sunned my soul
in the flames, as they rose,
expecting any day
to hear the gospel of
a technologic fix, an end
to want, to death, to meaning;
hoisted up by my own amphetamines,
entrusted with the whole sick crew,
and the death of an author,
and the death of the new…
Some spirit raced across the plain
that stretches from Earth to Heaven,
that stretches back
a thousand years,
to deep engines of
our primordial guilt—
and it secreted through the centuries
a word or two, once written,
depositing its frank hieratic script
on the doorstep,
where we stare.
And I read the news
which promised it was true,
but in between the lines I caught
the clearest conversation,
which blew my mind out
like a childhood candle,
saying: 'I am the century’s decay,
the engine of fertility,
and the end is so forever near,
why love—why linger
anywhere at all?'
And the answer all around
hummed, invisibly,
ensconced in sheer air:
'Illusions now,
and illusions then,
sad history of becoming;
you cannot make the void tremble,
but only speak one word,
and it will be
an unexplainable thing.' "
--Julia Ostrowski in The Hinternet
the shark-scarecrow shadow
shunted off the cough track
adroit drottkvætt locust
drizzles grisly hawkings
fields where quailed a foundry
fistulas lisp passwords
When Laura Riding collected her poetry she divided them into "Poems of immediate occasion" & "Poems of final occasion" though i defy anyone to sort them blindfolded. Truth is, it's all immediate occasions--sometimes gestated in years--but who can say? What i observe is certain words, certain images swim into my orbit; sometimes they spin a bit & escape, sometimes they become a moon.
