I arrived on the astral plane, after a series of trials and transitional exercises. Hard to describe but I was floating in the air (with a few other (people)) and the trial kept repeating as I figured out how to transition. There was a magnetic force that kept me afloat.
“Algorithmic Sabotage” is a figure of techno-disobedience for the militancy that’s absent from technology critique...
You must let go, let it go, let it be, it is what it is, is that all there is? yes, this, that is all, this is it. You're heart. Must be blind. You must persist. Do not resist. What you resist persists. There is only one way. You must find it. The way is not self evident. This is not a maze.
why should making something outside of ourselves justify our existence? "I now embrace eternity, because this is far from over!" why should we be worth any more than dirt? aren't we of dirt? gravity is real, because we can measure and predict it. the soul isn&
Go slow in traffic and remember that this peace is beautiful. Follow as many people as you can. Speak your truth calmly and clearly; listen to others, even the weak and ignorant; They also have their own stories. Avoid loud and angry people; they hurt the spirit. When you compare
First crown one month into the shut-in, shut-down. The beginning of the time when nothing changed. When the before and after merged. Dutifully avoiding contact. No, no, the social ramifications of the pandemic were we wet dream. The idea of... it... terrified sound of the dentist’s drill agonizing porcelain
Thirst verily, I say, year you till tooth, and woman mercy, one jot, or one hunger shall in no wise mercy from the control, till all be fulfilled...
I think I know who this tree belongs to. His house is in the city. He stopped me here. He cannot see his snow-covered forest.
For most of my life, I felt disconnected and adrift. My childhood was marked by abuse and neglect. I never felt like I belonged to my birth family. The thing I remember most about being young is the longing I felt, though I knew not for what. I carried a
I believe I am the figment of a little boy’s imagination. He’s trying to imagine himself in the future. In a different future than the one he expects. I am ten years old imaging I am sixty-three.
(This is part of a series. You can read related posts here.) I had a bad fall. As in the season. My mood generally turns dour around September, but then usually gets better by Thanksgiving. My birthday is in September, but I've never felt that that was a
Welcome to a new form of haiku, which I'm calling haikuku...
This poem is a mashup of Claudius’ soliloquy from Hamlet, and Donald Trump’s speech declaring his second run for president. It was first published in Unlikely Stories Mark V. O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; I’m a victim, I will tell you. The vicious Republican
he came up on an eagle on a sandbar looking over his shoulder bloody beak dripping with dead cormorant...
The host in the machine dwells in selfless piety of abrogated selfish-less common sense...
