How can anyone still be posting on tumblr when the platform still can't format text posts properly? It drives me mad trying to read folks' words when each line is on its own paragraph.

It's the Fediverse's 13th birthday! Apparently an event to make a .

I love and how they change across our imaginary geopolitical lines, how time moulds them to fit our changing lives and what can be done to them with our kaleidoscope minds.

I occasionally write and , love to be inspired by the of others and can barely resist anything that romances the Moon. I once scored 426 on scrabble.

Me: There is not enough on the Fediverse.
Self: You have literally been considering writing a for two weeks and have written how many words so far?

Working title: "Translucent Ink".

What songs would be sung
of a surface without feature
of the land with no valley
no life for hill to feed?

What canvas would inspire
bereft of the artist's brush
of a dried palette left
in a lone monochrome shade?

What would spill forth
from a pen in the still hand
brimming empty with perfection
no emotion felt and none described?

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What songs could be sung of a surface without feature
of the land with no valley, no hill, no life?

What canvas would inspire when bereft of painter's brush
no emotion felt and none described?

What would spill from the pen
filled with the emptiness of perfection?

I shall now find a proper writing implement and hone these musings. Anyone else have any incubatory to share?

"On getting "
I link to the Hacker News discussion, rather then the article itself, as I found the latter really hard going, probably the result of my lacking education. The comments on HN, however, are a varied mix from different viewpoints and many resonate with my own attraction to the poem. (thread)

First bees, now some butterflies for the timeline, from this poem in 2017 "Romantic Aerobatics"

I braked and weaved to avoid the pair
dancing so gaily at nose-height.
As their flittering wings resplendently beat
a corkscrew of pattern with deft.

Too many words for a toot, full at

@bombus welcome to the! Don't forget to use the hashtag to help others find your work. An post also helps us to find newcomers and welcome them. Happy to see more poets here :-)

Anyone yearning for some passion in these dreary times will appreciate this by the superb SoulReserve, whose words always refil the reserve of the soul. I also really enjoyed the feel of the sounds from singer-songwriter Emma Nabarro-Steel in this collaboration.

@Corvusrobotica Lunar for my muses, hopefully being sent to the Moon. Thank you for being one of them :-)

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One of the definitions of "bugbear" is a verb, "to alarm with idle phantoms". There's a word begging for . @Algot @dogtrax

i know why you love the rain
when clouds coalesce with design
and bring to you the promise of rain:
it will not be ignored.

(raindrop 1/5)

What’s the time Mr. Wolf?
I pause and soon
he howls out his answer
head raised to the full Moon.

She soaks up the call and deigns
to translate his ghostly words:
shines them down from her throne
of straggled winterbranch.

I can barely make out the hands,
her voice a translucent apparition,
cast upon the watch face.

There it is: the time.
It is the Witching Hour.

I turn away from the path
through or into dark wood.
Not tonight.

from amidst a lightning storm in which I mention the Moon but, somehow, do not crowbar in the word "crepuscular".

it was a demonic, monochrome assault
fueled by the gods it struck from
beyond the sky, across the sky
and down to the ground and around
it assailed everywhere that the senses
gave life.

Full piece:

I have faith in her rise
above the horizon
on to her stage,
back to her home
her domain.

Then comes the cloud, to
snub the Lunar arrival
fueled with avarice
claws to puncture
her crepuscular gleamshine.

But she overcomes
she always overcomes
not like the Sun,
burning, broiling, beating.

She succeeds the cloud
rises above it.


@sajan Thank you for the reminder to draft and post this summer poem that inspired itself as I created it.

Summer is reading as I write.

<redbaron> is _aD some sort of bird that migrates every night to a hidden position in a tree?
<_aD> redbaron, under a tree, under the sky, under the watchful Jovian eye.

Trying to choose which likely candidates from my Moon I'll be performing at a small local cabaret evening tomorrow. It'll be my first public performance.

My self from a few years ago would wonder who I am, and if I'll end up hiding in a dark hole under a big rock instead.

Shout out to anyone else's . Mine is at which...really needs some more recent entries.

I'm hoping to gather the courage to participate in a local poetry cabaret in a few weeks, so perhaps a recording of a few recent lunatic affairs is in order.

@a_breakin_glass @dessicance

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