#dailywriting — Public Fediverse posts

hydrophobic

Ideas strike, orb, drip away,
and ever the mind stays dry –
the wool ready to spark and burn,
and nothing ever soaks in –
the storm is lessened, still,
the effect lingers. the
creak and scratch of
dead-dried fibers shuffling;
you could make something mighty from
everything holed up in there.
of course,
you’d have to open it.

hydrophobic

Ideas strike, orb, drip away,
and ever the mind stays dry –
the wool ready to spark and burn,
and nothing ever soaks in –
the storm is lessened, still,
the effect lingers. the
creak and scratch of
dead-dried fibers shuffling;
you could make something mighty from
everything holed up in there.
of course,
you’d have to open it.

hydrophobic

Ideas strike, orb, drip away,
and ever the mind stays dry –
the wool ready to spark and burn,
and nothing ever soaks in –
the storm is lessened, still,
the effect lingers. the
creak and scratch of
dead-dried fibers shuffling;
you could make something mighty from
everything holed up in there.
of course,
you’d have to open it.

hydrophobic

Ideas strike, orb, drip away,
and ever the mind stays dry –
the wool ready to spark and burn,
and nothing ever soaks in –
the storm is lessened, still,
the effect lingers. the
creak and scratch of
dead-dried fibers shuffling;
you could make something mighty from
everything holed up in there.
of course,
you’d have to open it.

ars poetica

it is poetry kills the machine
it is code corrupted with secret gardens;
answers festering with cellared metaphor;
the amphorae full of sideways datapoints,
and no sieve to sort the sweetness –
oh, constituent, have you
heard the secret song of your own request?
in truth it is jumble.
in truth there is no truth.

ars poetica

it is poetry kills the machine
it is code corrupted with secret gardens;
answers festering with cellared metaphor;
the amphorae full of sideways datapoints,
and no sieve to sort the sweetness –
oh, constituent, have you
heard the secret song of your own request?
in truth it is jumble.
in truth there is no truth.

ars poetica

it is poetry kills the machine
it is code corrupted with secret gardens;
answers festering with cellared metaphor;
the amphorae full of sideways datapoints,
and no sieve to sort the sweetness –
oh, constituent, have you
heard the secret song of your own request?
in truth it is jumble.
in truth there is no truth.

ars poetica

it is poetry kills the machine
it is code corrupted with secret gardens;
answers festering with cellared metaphor;
the amphorae full of sideways datapoints,
and no sieve to sort the sweetness –
oh, constituent, have you
heard the secret song of your own request?
in truth it is jumble.
in truth there is no truth.

love for a different self

there are mirrors within mirrors
and a version of thyself that
is perfect angles; perfect
smiles, all bright-eyes
and angels;
there was a past. there was a future.
and now, many millions of each,
and there is one solitary moment
of love buried somewhere,
one molecule in the mirror;
one self within the self.

love for a different self

there are mirrors within mirrors
and a version of thyself that
is perfect angles; perfect
smiles, all bright-eyes
and angels;
there was a past. there was a future.
and now, many millions of each,
and there is one solitary moment
of love buried somewhere,
one molecule in the mirror;
one self within the self.

love for a different self

there are mirrors within mirrors
and a version of thyself that
is perfect angles; perfect
smiles, all bright-eyes
and angels;
there was a past. there was a future.
and now, many millions of each,
and there is one solitary moment
of love buried somewhere,
one molecule in the mirror;
one self within the self.

love for a different self

there are mirrors within mirrors
and a version of thyself that
is perfect angles; perfect
smiles, all bright-eyes
and angels;
there was a past. there was a future.
and now, many millions of each,
and there is one solitary moment
of love buried somewhere,
one molecule in the mirror;
one self within the self.

but you must

you do not believe it
and yet you must
act as though it’s true;
although the human world
belies it, it
is foundational, it
must be true
despite it’s falseness;
it pins all smiles at the corners;
it keeps gold shined and copper tarnished;
it is everywhere once
you agree to see it.

but you must

you do not believe it
and yet you must
act as though it’s true;
although the human world
belies it, it
is foundational, it
must be true
despite it’s falseness;
it pins all smiles at the corners;
it keeps gold shined and copper tarnished;
it is everywhere once
you agree to see it.

but you must

you do not believe it
and yet you must
act as though it’s true;
although the human world
belies it, it
is foundational, it
must be true
despite it’s falseness;
it pins all smiles at the corners;
it keeps gold shined and copper tarnished;
it is everywhere once
you agree to see it.

but you must

you do not believe it
and yet you must
act as though it’s true;
although the human world
belies it, it
is foundational, it
must be true
despite it’s falseness;
it pins all smiles at the corners;
it keeps gold shined and copper tarnished;
it is everywhere once
you agree to see it.

but you must

you do not believe it
and yet you must
act as though it’s true;
although the human world
belies it, it
is foundational, it
must be true
despite it’s falseness;
it pins all smiles at the corners;
it keeps gold shined and copper tarnished;
it is everywhere once
you agree to see it.