Sublime

the “elsewhere” of messages, news cycles, TikToks, and so on

Once upon a time, when checking and scrolling were not an option, there existed so much interstitial space. The gap between one activity and another was an open field, a transitional territory.

The “soft” characteristics of any kind of contemplative behavior (slowness, eddying, meandering) make it easy to devalue. And this, too: creative space often feels resistant, like it’s denying us something, won’t speak, won’t produce—when in reality it’s just quiet, it’s not dancing for us, or “entertaining,” or feeding us dopamine edibles.

Flesh in a porcelain finish—because breaking apart was

only the first step.

Death: a thrift store mirror, cracked in all the bright places.

Roadkill. How it talks back.

Question : Are we there yet?

Feel the wind coming in fours.

Listen to the seasons galloping. The hunters dropping

quail mid-flight.

Kneel if you’ll take me, lips flushed past open.

Kneel any... See more

“The Fish” by Elizabeth Bishop “Leaving One” by Ralph Angel “A Cat in an Empty Apartment” by Wisława Szymborska “Apples” by Deborah Digges “Michiko Nogami (1946–1982)” by Jack Gilbert “Eating Alone” by Li-Young Lee “The Potter” by Peter Levitt “Black Dog, Red Dog” by Stephen Dobyns “The Word” by Mark Cox “Death” by Maurycy Szymel “This” by Czeslaw

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The seeking was passive, the reward pale, the sense of agency bled dry. I checked reflexively, without intention.