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A toxic new trend?
Put it in crossword puzzles --
Instantly passé

#senryu #sharepoetry

Damnatio Memoriae: A History of the Past That Used to Be - PSYCHOPOMP.COM Their stories filled encyclopedias. / Matched ranks on the shelf, leather-bound, / volume after volume, / cover to cover / packed with their achievements, their failings, their tales.

Day 1 of #12DaysOfPoetry! My first published poem was . . . not very festive . . . but you can read "Damnatio Memoriae" for free in @fantasymagazine.bsky.social! #sharepoetry

psychopomp.com/fantasy/augu...

I'm slated to have another poem published by the end of the year, which will bring my count to 12.

You know what else there are twelve of? Days of Christmas!

So, starting tomorrow, I will be posting one poem a day until Twelfth Night! I invite other poets to join me . . . #sharepoetry

A screencap of a sonnet titled "The Novelist Laments in Verse" by Marie Brennan: Shall I compare me to a wrung-out rag? I am more limp, more grimy, and more drained. The labor of a novel makes me sag; my fervor for this enterprise has waned. Sometimes -- ofttimes -- I’ve craved a restful week, in which no scenes or chapters I compose, no useful details in my reading seek: but sans those things, a novel never grows. So my eternal labor must go on, in word by word and day by tiresome day, until the moment when, quite pale and wan, I can, arm raised in feeblest triumph, say: I may be brain-dead and completely beat, but after all these months, my book’s complete.

Wrote this earlier in the year for the first Sea Beyond book; sharing it now as I've finished a draft of THE WORST MONK IN OMNU! #sharepoetry

Hallucination – Merganser Magazine

New poem day! Over at @mergansermagazine.bsky.social, "Hallucination" -- about AI, linguistics, and a wish for a better world . . . #sharepoetry

mergansermagazine.com/story/halluc...

If people saw who I really am they would Shrek in fear therefore hiding with a fake mask is my cross to bare.
Despite the loneliness it gives me in knowing no one will ever know who I truly am.
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northern lavender garden,
below a milky violet sky,
under the gray ocean,
within a cup of tears,
on a darkened floor.

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