the stack is in the batter - go in with broad bread hook holding on the left, giving on the right carbon form of flagrant rite - clamoring, harboring freight train harmonies -
May Contain Hackers
"Shoot a web3 developer" – the speaker, my acquaintance Ella, is being provocative, but it touches a nerve. It's day 3 of MCH2022, one of the northwestern european hacker camps (along with Chaos Camp,
factory e9
Of course, if it were really a GIGAfactory, it would be approximately the size of the continental united states. In point of fact, it's just a factory. But then, that is the hilarity
pumpkin seeds
i woke up lifetimes ago at dawn to write this but it took me until now to sit my body down at the clavier to strike chords and post boards above the glare
My Heart Remembers
प्रातः स्मरामि हृदि संस्फुरदात्मतत्त्वं सच्चित्सुखं परमहंसगतिं तुरीयम् । यत्स्वप्नजागरसुषुप्
sometimes the spirit moves through you, and sometimes it don't sometimes papa is home, and sometimes he's out to lunch. who will survive? none who with thrive? this one. I do apologize for
Title first
call me colophone one more memory of me for the hole one more kiss on the face of the deep one more telling of our story A bed of leaves, a peeling bark.
beak and all
I brush my keen father feather against the flesh of the night, the air inside your vowel sound gives way to the blaying and bleating of this goat beard. breathless, suddenless, thunderous one-ness
These times
Just surviving in these times, that's about all one can do. The day will come again when my free time flows freely toward experimentation and stories and art and love. Right now, to
Window sills
Musk of life is a pheremone trail. You accept your urge. Until one day you lose the scent. Everything flowers, everything blooms, and then wilts stamen-first into a droop of metling flesh. Everything
The turn inward, the turnaround, the turn outward. Seasons turn. I've been journaling these last many months, but that was not for you. That was for me. And now I wonder what happens
every alley
This monochrome dawn is breaking. Will grumbles of her own concerns. I do not remember my dreams, but I do stride in the direciton of my will. I am learning to speak again.
The light casts noble metal over the forest crown and cornices of Outer Berlin. I can see strong weather coming, and birds from the east race this column of rain to land. My
True Vessel
Pack up riots and riotous laughter, Bring them to concrete and candle Grind them, and concentrate Choose to engrave a red letter, And flit away, with cool paste, Left on wings of bees

Get the latest posts delivered right to your inbox.

Or subscribe via RSS with Feedly!
Thanks for Subscribing