Singularity Skeptic
”I can see all possible futures, in every imaginable reality, and none of them interest me very much.”
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Poetry and Shameless Obscurity
Poetry is shameless. Poetry is obscure. Poetry is fine with this.
Perhaps poetry is *pretentious,* but please don’t call it that. That framing feels unfair, somehow.
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Thousand Mile Eyes
“Need a steady hand on the rudder? I can do that. It’s hard to ruffle my feathers these days.”
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Un // Bound
The key is a flower // The flower is a blade // The blade is a key
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Sunlight Escaping
Every evening I follow
It always gets away -
Innocent Blood
The quiet opens for me / like a wardrobe
A recent poem posted on BlueSky. My own little religion of solitude.
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Excorporated
Apocalypse Dance Party
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The Forethought
The neglected garage, the bitter oracle. … Reposting a poem published in the Winter 2023 edition of the Schuylkill Valley Journal.
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To maintain this ecstasy
If you are reading this, and you are not just a future version of me doing some navel-gazing, then thank you for taking a moment. It is for me, but it is also for you.
