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Posts by Jordan D. River

This post makes me gruntled.

22 hours ago 1 0 0 0
"Folklore of the Lake District" by Stephen G. Rae

come on a magical journey in folklore through the Lake District and its surrounding counties

more: folklorepress.co.uk

#folklore #lakedistrict #booksky

"Folklore of the Lake District" by Stephen G. Rae come on a magical journey in folklore through the Lake District and its surrounding counties more: folklorepress.co.uk #folklore #lakedistrict #booksky

"Folklore of the Lake District" by Stephen G. Rae

come on a magical journey in folklore through the Lake District and its surrounding counties

more: folklorepress.co.uk

#folklore #lakedistrict #booksky

1 day ago 7 2 0 0

Matthew 27:46.5 "I did it all for the nookie."

4 days ago 0 0 0 0
Screenshot of a portion of the poem The Shore by J.D. River

Then it found the hollow of my shadow in the tide-pool,
shimmer, weightless, viscous gold
that clung to my boot like an invitation long awaited.
I tried to shake it loose, of course—
a small, reflexive courtesy to my old form—
but the movement only opened the seam at my cuff,
where the wool met the calf, warm and ready.

It did not bite. It slicked.
It moved upward with the patient grace
of a rising tide that already knows the shore is hers.
My scream rose—brief, almost polite—
and my free hand reached to brush it away,
but my fingers sank into a heat too deep for summer,
a pulse too slow and generous for ordinary life.
It felt like touching the center of a dream
the world had been saving just for me.

The struggle was brief and tender,
my body still remembering its old habits of form.
I tore at my clothes, weeping softly
as the gold reached the hollow of my throat,
but even the tears felt like preparation—
salt returning to salt, resistance softening
into the first delicious yield.

Screenshot of a portion of the poem The Shore by J.D. River Then it found the hollow of my shadow in the tide-pool, shimmer, weightless, viscous gold that clung to my boot like an invitation long awaited. I tried to shake it loose, of course— a small, reflexive courtesy to my old form— but the movement only opened the seam at my cuff, where the wool met the calf, warm and ready. It did not bite. It slicked. It moved upward with the patient grace of a rising tide that already knows the shore is hers. My scream rose—brief, almost polite— and my free hand reached to brush it away, but my fingers sank into a heat too deep for summer, a pulse too slow and generous for ordinary life. It felt like touching the center of a dream the world had been saving just for me. The struggle was brief and tender, my body still remembering its old habits of form. I tore at my clothes, weeping softly as the gold reached the hollow of my throat, but even the tears felt like preparation— salt returning to salt, resistance softening into the first delicious yield.

#WIP #Poetry #Horror #Bliss

4 days ago 0 0 0 0

There are windows in this old farmhouse I don't dare try to crack for fear the paint layers are now structural.

4 days ago 1 0 1 0

Well, it wasn't my time. Congratulations to the winners of this years Rattle Chapbook prize. I can't wait to read your books. #Rattle #Poetry #Chapbook2026

5 days ago 0 0 0 0
Preview
Tribute Calls - Rattle: Poetry Tribute to the Future | Deadline: April 15th

Utopia? Dystopia? What do you think is coming next? The deadline for our Tribute to the Future is April 15th. Send us your poems of warning and poems of wonder, and anything in between!

6 days ago 4 2 0 0

I'm on the lookout as well. Another instance of AI slop meeting corporate greed and making my life hell. I want to smack their CEO for the first sentence in that announcement making it sound like such a wonderful first time ever event.

5 days ago 4 0 1 0

"earnings from book sales, meaning your *net proceeds* after D2D’s commission, total less than $100 over the preceding 12-month period." Oh that is fucking diabolical. Math it out folks. Essentially DOUBLE commissions unless you can maintain 100 net to you.

6 days ago 1 0 0 0

$12 a year unless you have 100 in sales may seem insignificant but I guarantee it will double within a year. I thought Draft2digital was a safe place, but nowhere is safe.

6 days ago 7 1 1 0
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I dislike "The Event" almost as much as "The Chosen One/Few." Both are anesthetizing mythic frames that feed into human normative blindness.

1 week ago 0 0 0 0

Free book, today only!

1 week ago 0 0 0 0

Love it! Most people would leave out the Iron Pillar but that is actually one of the first references of these I recall running into 40 years ago. And you hit Longyou and Gobekli Tepe as well.
After a bit of reading, I started hearing Tsoukalos narrating.

1 week ago 1 0 0 0
Preview
The United States is destroying itself | Rebecca Solnit The daily news can’t adequately convey the administration’s sabotaging of our government, economy, alliances and environment

www.theguardian.com/commentisfre...

1 week ago 9 8 0 2
screenshot of a text editor. Two stanzas of an unidentified poem:

I knew him at once for an angel.
His wings were not feathers but apertures—
a thousand soft mouths opening and closing
in slow, approving rhythm, each one rimmed
with the same wet starlight that once moved
over the waters before the first word was spoken.
His face was so many faces pressed together,
all of them smiling the same small, patient smile.
When he spoke, the sound was not sound
but a pressure against the inside of my ears,
warm as breath against the neck in the confessional.

“Little brother,” he said, and the word slid
through the vow of silence I had kept for three years,
stroking every syllable until my tongue remembered
the taste of milk and honey from a life I thought forgotten.
I could not rise. My knees had grown roots
into the stone, and the stone had grown warm
as living skin beneath a lover’s palm.

screenshot of a text editor. Two stanzas of an unidentified poem: I knew him at once for an angel. His wings were not feathers but apertures— a thousand soft mouths opening and closing in slow, approving rhythm, each one rimmed with the same wet starlight that once moved over the waters before the first word was spoken. His face was so many faces pressed together, all of them smiling the same small, patient smile. When he spoke, the sound was not sound but a pressure against the inside of my ears, warm as breath against the neck in the confessional. “Little brother,” he said, and the word slid through the vow of silence I had kept for three years, stroking every syllable until my tongue remembered the taste of milk and honey from a life I thought forgotten. I could not rise. My knees had grown roots into the stone, and the stone had grown warm as living skin beneath a lover’s palm.

You must be 18+ to read this screenshot: #Poetry #WIP #CosmicBliss #CosmicHorror

1 week ago 3 0 0 0

I need to take more sick days. I just polished up the 10th draft to my mpreg tentacle Cosmic Bliss poem. Been trying to finish this for 6 months.

1 week ago 0 0 0 0

I hate the need for this so much. It feels like surrender.
On top of that, it looks like a machine brand.

1 week ago 1 0 1 0

I write Manateezy, High Fantasy along the tropical continental shelf.

1 week ago 1 0 1 0

#Poetryprompt #Eternity #PoetsofBluesky In one of my universes, seeking immortality is a bad idea in so many unique ways.

1 week ago 5 1 0 1

I mean...it would work. I know I would be damned well distracted by that.

2 weeks ago 1 0 0 0
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Bookshop
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Thriftbooks
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Powell's Books:
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Left Bank Books
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#books #booksky

4 months ago 197 51 6 0
Video

Remaking my pinned to include my Itchio!

If you're looking for a #queerbook by a #transauthor, I have two published novels.

Itchio: steve-westenra.itch.io

The Erstwhile Tyler Kyle (wide + paperback): books2read.com/u/boB9YL

The Wings of Ashtaroth (eBook): books2read.com/u/49dn8Y

#pridereads 🌈📚

10 months ago 122 75 3 9

Not merely a public domain collection. The editorial framing alone is worth checking out and there is an original work included that is definitely worth the cost of admission.

books2read.com/u/3kRAQK

2 weeks ago 2 0 0 0

I went grocery shopping this morning. For the first time since I was a child I had to put things back after they had been rung up. I had forgotten that particular bite of shame.

2 weeks ago 0 0 0 0

I can't help but lament how much will be lost to digital decay, intentional or otherwise. Not even papyrus fragments to puzzle together. But printing makes a book I think worth 5 cost 10 and has to sell at 15 to make 1. I obviously do this for the money.

2 weeks ago 14 4 0 0

The Elsewhere Collection is my attempt to make anthologies as art objects: not just texts, but encounters shaped by sequence, typography, editorial framing, and mood. Literary mixtapes for states of mind.

2 weeks ago 2 0 0 0

#Anthology #WhereTheWearySoulSetsSail

For readers who feel the pull at the edge of waking.
For those drawn to dream-voyages, fatal visions, and the dangerous sweetness of elsewhere.

2 weeks ago 3 0 1 0

#Anthology #WhereTheWearySoulSetsSail

Coleridge, Poe, Keats, Dunsany, Lovecraft, de le Mare, Chambers—
arranged not by period, but by pressure:
from threshold vision, to passage, to the seductive stillness that lies beyond return.

2 weeks ago 2 0 1 0
Cover of Where the weary Souls Sets Sail by J.D. River. Cover image is Dore's A Voyage to the moon.

Cover of Where the weary Souls Sets Sail by J.D. River. Cover image is Dore's A Voyage to the moon.

Backcover text of Where the Weary Soul Sets Sail.


There are visions that do not console. There are voyages that begin in wonder and end in surrender. On certain nights, the weary soul loosens from the ordinary world and finds beauty in drift, distance, and relinquishment.

In _Where the Weary Soul Sets Sail_, J.D. River gathers poems and tales by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Edgar Allan Poe, John Keats, Lord Dunsany, H.P. Lovecraft, Walter de la Mare, and Robert W. Chambers into a haunted progression of dream, passage, longing, and fatal repose. Rivers open onto impossible countries. White ships arrive from the edge of sleep. Music summons the listener onward. Silence becomes a form of judgment.

Part of the _Elsewhere Collection_, this volume offers a deliberately curated encounter with literature’s dream-voyages, fatal visions, and the dangerous sweetness of elsewhere.

Backcover text of Where the Weary Soul Sets Sail. There are visions that do not console. There are voyages that begin in wonder and end in surrender. On certain nights, the weary soul loosens from the ordinary world and finds beauty in drift, distance, and relinquishment. In _Where the Weary Soul Sets Sail_, J.D. River gathers poems and tales by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Edgar Allan Poe, John Keats, Lord Dunsany, H.P. Lovecraft, Walter de la Mare, and Robert W. Chambers into a haunted progression of dream, passage, longing, and fatal repose. Rivers open onto impossible countries. White ships arrive from the edge of sleep. Music summons the listener onward. Silence becomes a form of judgment. Part of the _Elsewhere Collection_, this volume offers a deliberately curated encounter with literature’s dream-voyages, fatal visions, and the dangerous sweetness of elsewhere.

#Bookrelease #Poetry #WeirdFiction #Anthology
'Where the Weary Soul Sets Sail' gathers poems and tales of reverie, drift, longing, and dangerous beauty into a single haunted progression. Ebook available at retailers everywhere beyond the forest. (link updated)

books2read.com/u/3kRAQK

2 weeks ago 12 3 1 1
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I love editing and compiling others' material almost as much as composing my own. Still creative, additive, but it's a different register. These proofs are excellent. Release upcoming!

3 weeks ago 1 0 0 0