#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #promptography #synthart #genart #newgenart #newmediaart #newgenmediaart
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#ObscuraWednesday
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #promptography #synthart #genart #newgenart #newmediaart #newgenmediaart
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #promptography #synthart #genart #newgenart #newmediaart #newgenmediaart
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Ever suspect a building keeps secrets? One elevator ride turns into a reckoning as the walls ping, scan, and breathe. Click below to slip between floors. Full story on Ghost, no signup req. #ObscuraWednesday #shortstory #reading #litfic #occult #wyrd
innerstellar-arcadia.ghost.io/the-half-flo...
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What if every clock in a ruined chapel keeps its own prayer? A time-tech goes in to fix the drift and finds the air humming with lost minutes. Full story on Ghost, no signup req. #ObscuraWednesday #shortstory #reading #litfic #occultsky #wyrd #amreading
innerstellar-arcadia.ghost.io/votive-drift...
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Neon, rain, and a heartbeat on borrowed time. A medic works the edge of a packed club while the cameras keep watching. Step into the afterglow. Full story free on Ghost, no signup req. #ObscuraWednesday #shortstory #reading #occultsky #mystic #litfic
innerstellar-arcadia.ghost.io/the-afterglo...
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This week's #ObscuraWednesday themes:
Shrine of the Divergent Clocks
Neon Baptistry Behind the Club
Elevator Garden between Floors
Let your light shine. All creative mediums welcome. #aiart #amwriting #shortstory #poetry #sketch #illustration #painting #photo #art #occultsky #occultart #spirit
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This week's #ObscuraWednesday themes:
Shrine of the Divergent Clocks
Neon Baptistry Behind the Club
Elevator Garden between Floors
Add your voice to the current. All creative mediums welcome. #genart #writing #poetry #sketch #painting #photo #art #ritual #sigil #occultsky #occultart #mysticalart
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #synthart #newgenart #genmediaart #genart #occult #occultart #mystic
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #synthart #newgenart #genmediaart #genart #occult #occultart #mystic
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![Vesica for the Unname
’20s: In the warehouse-basement the air is a thin host,
cold as filed marble; I lay vellum (skin pretending innocence)
and draw charcoal slow — scrape, hush, smudge — until graphite grit
blooms like dark communion on my tongue: anamnesis, ash-sweet [ ]
’10s: The drawer labeled UNPLACED yawns; mothwing powder
lifts in a shiver. Radio-static threads the conduits —
voices without bodies, bodies without names — while my hand,
dutiful, advances across one cartouche that will not stay [ ]
’00s: Salt halos the seams — preserve/corrode — so letters flake
into a gray weather. Lichen inks its patient green syllables
along the margins; the pitting reads as braille-like prayer, unread,
and the palimpsest answers only by smearing (do not unname) [ ]
’90s: Gloves snap; protocols hum; a clerk’s voice, clinical as mercy,
slides fragments into acid-free sleep. Here the labels form a cenotaph,
and the oval name-frame turns apophatic — kenosis in limestone —
blank as refuge / blank as violence, both kept in the same mouth [ ]
’80s: Chalk outlines the absent statue, a white stigmata on concrete;
I walk its perimeter as if circling a sephirah gone dark,
refusing the deciding criteria, feeling it anyway — pressure in the wrist —
as the stone under paper shivers, then steadies, refusing pardon [ ]
’70s: Fluorescents gutter; time counter-rotates, decade by decade,
while my hand completes its forward crawl and finds — only air,
an empty cartouche etched between breath and breath.
I swallow the grit, and keep watch without a word:](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:mshucwxb27errt5e3enn2jnt/bafkreid4l2pazof65deoucj5n5z57tfh6qm3qwhle6yayqc6k35nsh3uma)
Vesica for the Unname ’20s: In the warehouse-basement the air is a thin host, cold as filed marble; I lay vellum (skin pretending innocence) and draw charcoal slow — scrape, hush, smudge — until graphite grit blooms like dark communion on my tongue: anamnesis, ash-sweet [ ] ’10s: The drawer labeled UNPLACED yawns; mothwing powder lifts in a shiver. Radio-static threads the conduits — voices without bodies, bodies without names — while my hand, dutiful, advances across one cartouche that will not stay [ ] ’00s: Salt halos the seams — preserve/corrode — so letters flake into a gray weather. Lichen inks its patient green syllables along the margins; the pitting reads as braille-like prayer, unread, and the palimpsest answers only by smearing (do not unname) [ ] ’90s: Gloves snap; protocols hum; a clerk’s voice, clinical as mercy, slides fragments into acid-free sleep. Here the labels form a cenotaph, and the oval name-frame turns apophatic — kenosis in limestone — blank as refuge / blank as violence, both kept in the same mouth [ ] ’80s: Chalk outlines the absent statue, a white stigmata on concrete; I walk its perimeter as if circling a sephirah gone dark, refusing the deciding criteria, feeling it anyway — pressure in the wrist — as the stone under paper shivers, then steadies, refusing pardon [ ] ’70s: Fluorescents gutter; time counter-rotates, decade by decade, while my hand completes its forward crawl and finds — only air, an empty cartouche etched between breath and breath. I swallow the grit, and keep watch without a word:
#ObscuraWednesday #poem #poetry #blueskypoetry #occult #mystic #spiritual #poetrycommunity #poeminalt
Poem in Alt Text
Vesica for the Unname
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #synthart #newgenart #genmediaart #genart #occult #occultart #mystic
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #synthart #newgenart #genmediaart #genart #occult #occultart #mystic
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Ossuary for the Uncrowned: Veilwork HAND — Matins Floodlights stitch a false noon to chain-link — sodium glare, clinical, unblinking. We cross the gate into the municipal ossuary: plinths stacked like ribs; effigy torsos crated, numbered. Limestone dust lifts — ash without incense — and rusted bolts stud the slab, hard stigmata. Severed hands, chalk at the wrist, keep the old gesture — command disguised as blessing. not forgiven / not forgotten KNOCK. MOUTH — Prime A marble head lies face-down in gravel, mouth sealed to earth — learning silence by pressure. Ivy tongues the jaw; lichen salts the lips, o/e, slow psalm in spore-script. Here we would accuse — — but the air will not carry it. EYE — Vespers Bolt-holes hold rain — small chalices of torque; the sky reduced to dark coins. We cup one, lift it — our palms become a lustrum — then pour it back through the hole so the hollow rinses itself: not absolved, only cooled. Votive wax, warmed between thumb and knuckle, falls — soft counter-monument — and we anoint the broken plaque on its block, altar-stone, letting missing letters keep their witness. not forgiven / not forgotten THRONE — Lauds Between lines, time-lapse: crowns crack into grit-halos; iron blooms green; dust resettles like verdict. Kenosis spreads — emptiness with weight. Dawn arrives like a clerk, stamping light. We rise — orphans of our own kneeling — tongues chalked with ash, throats tuned to an unfinished amen. not forgiven / not forgotten
#ObscuraWednesday #poem #poetry #blueskypoetry #occult #mystic #spiritual #poetrycommunity #poeminalt
Poem in Alt Text
Ossuary for the Uncrowned: Veilwork
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #synthart #newgenart #genmediaart #genart #occult #occultart #mystic
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #synthart #newgenart #genmediaart #genart #occult #occultart #mystic
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Ever ridden a route that takes secrets instead of coins? Tonight’s bus prints truths you didn’t mean to share. Step aboard Route V. Full story free on Ghost, no signup req. #ObscuraWednesday #shortstory #reading #amreading #occultsky #mystic #LitFic
innerstellar-arcadia.ghost.io/route-v-nigh...
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #synthart #newgenart #genmediaart #genart #occult #occultart #mystic
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #synthart #newgenart #genmediaart #genart #occult #occultart #mystic
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #synthart #newgenart #genmediaart #genart #occult #occultart #mystic
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#ObscuraWednesday #promptalism #promptart #synthart #newgenart #genmediaart #genart #occult #occultart #mystic
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The Nave of Late Hunger Who keeps the stockpots breathing after hours, their steam a white hush that climbs the steel like prayer learning muscle, while the fluorescent hum sutures night to tile and sirens outside write red equations through rain. Whom do I welcome when I lift the ladle — chalice-spoon, moon-sickle — drawing broth in slow orbits, portioning warmth with a tin-tick, as if mercy had a measurable volume. Bowl set down. Who enters and changes the room’s weather: shoulders dripping, eyes scanning exits, a stranger whose need is so ordinary it becomes occult — an unnameable presence in plain clothing — so that he is in the line and you are in my hands and we trade pronouns without consent. Bowl set down. Whom do these chipped bowls confess, hairline-cracked relics that hold without owning, their wounds finer than my ethics; dishwater turns to dark chrism, oil-sheen sigil-film, and bus tokens, coins, small alms-keys bloom in the drain’s throat. Bandaged fingers, soap-burned knuckles — stigma without theater — wipe, rinse, stack: clink, clink, then the room stops — SERVE WAIT LISTEN Who is the broken loaf behind the counter, never centered, always peripheral, and why does my shame recoil at the almost-recognition in your glance, as if refusal were a door I keep polishing. Whom do I fail each time I look away, and whom do I finally meet when I do not. After the last tray, a damp forehead imprint ghosts the tabletop; a napkin bears a grease-seal, host-shadow; steam rises, rises, as if the air were keeping communion for the one who eats last.
#ObscuraWednesday #poem #poetry #blueskypoetry #occult #mystic #spiritual #poetrycommunity #poeminalt
Poem in Alt Text
The Nave of Late Hunger
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Athanor Aperture SIFT / in the sub-crypt, sssh — flour atomizes into halo-ash, a pale aura seeking every pore of basalt; above, the choir’s paper-wings keep counting. SEAL / salt in its dish, vow-grit; candle stubs gutter, beeswax pooling into melted seals; linen folds like a letter that will not open; the brass key warms, tooth-star, in my pocket. NAME / the leaven without writing it — h/th — knead, k/g, until hunger, that feral theologian, learns a softer grammar; soot under nails, my honest dark. WAIT / cover the bowl; time presses its ear to the dough; the blank space swells— Still the sanctuary lamp, red glass, unlit — lumen withheld. SCORE / seven slashes: sigils-wounds; the blade writes what the mouth refuses; ash-thumbprint, accidental cross, at the edge. FEED / the oven-mouth opens — oo/oh — red, breathing; athanor-tabernacle; slide the host in, a flour-moon minted from ash and breath; heat snaps; crust answers in crackle. HIDE / pale rounds cool on the rack, small moons learning silence; Matins thins the dark to milk — still concealment deepens, still devotion and desire share a mouth, still hunger stays holy in the throat.
#ObscuraWednesday #poem #poetry #blueskypoetry #occult #mystic #spiritual #poetrycommunity #poeminalt
Poem in Alt Text
Athanor Aperture
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This week’s #ObscuraWednesday themes:
Night Kitchen of the Hidden Host
Bone Yard of Fallen Monuments
Night Bus of the Fifth Gospel
Make some magick. All creative mediums welcome. #synthart #writing #amwriting #reading #shortstory #poetry #photography #painting #occult #occultart #mystic
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This week’s #ObscuraWednesday themes:
Night Kitchen of the Hidden Host
Bone Yard of Fallen Monuments
Night Bus of the Fifth Gospel
Add your voice. All creative mediums welcome. #synthart #writing #amwriting #reading #shortstory #poetry #photography #painting #sculpture #occult #occultart #mystic
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