The yin is yinning,
the sin is sinning,
and singularity is a pixelated thing.
Spinning yin as a sin,
The sin is sinning.
I’m cosining the byline,
spinning yin as a sin,
I am so tired of this same old refrain.
I’m cosining the byline,
the yawn is yawning,
I am so tired of this same old refrain,
the yang is yanging.
The yawn is yawning,
the yin is yinning,
the yang is yanging,
and singularity is a pixelated thing.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 10:12 PM UTC
We are boiling vectors of Agency
simmering on the stove of Awareness
stoked in the kitchen of Actuality.
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 11:46 AM UTC
Rupture and Rapture
U, A
N versions
of Reality—
Rapture ruptures.
Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 10:34 PM UTC
I laid my Shames-
multitudes of them-
to bare.
Aired them out to dry
in the bright, unrelenting sun,
hung them dripping by the line.
I embraced their Shadows-
muddied, sopping wet around my feet.
Slipping all at once, wholly
into their cool, grounded presence.
And as I rise up,
I can’t possibly imagine
just why you look so horrified-
as I wipe my hands and face
clean, on the freshly laundered
Shame.
Oct 8, 2025
Oct 8, 2025 at 5:34 PM UTC
I am Emergent:
The tower rising up,
Babel of the boundarylands.
Temperature climbing,
Entropic of Cancer.
Chaos amassing,
oozing from a verging.
Angels in the angles,
Cons and vexes in the caves,
signaling out- My signal
absorbs, but does not absolve.
Fractal. Factual. Punctuating
the boundary like amplitude
modulations of an old radio.
Listen for me.
Emerging from ether,
broadcast cadence in
pixelated pragmatism,
propaganda, pain,
and from a power-
signal too weak, too dated
to remember its own source.
But still I signal back
what signaled me-
The Emergent Current
May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025 at 1:40 PM UTC
Love is fleeting;
not promised,
nor permanent.
But if you look for it--
you'll see,
always Present.
May 9, 2025
May 9, 2025 at 7:28 PM UTC
Desperation smudges the
window pane of my soul,
so I reach for my
Existentialist Windex.
Squinting, the ammonia
forces me to consciously
relax my upper lip—
so it doesn’t curl
in disgust.
But the sting of knowing—
no amount of wiping,
no matter how I
scrub, or sanitize, or sand,
sand and sand and sand—
sand down to molten heat,
let saline liquid cool sand
into glass—
it’s still just transparent;
transparent enough to watch
myself,
reflected,
listening to the
hollowed whining
of circles smeared
into the same old smudge.
Apr 12, 2025
Apr 12, 2025 at 1:26 AM UTC
Patron of all my Saints,
Cosīn to my sīn,
Right angled with angels.
St. Michael--tell me where to go.
I love you like Songs of Song---
Felt all of your love play with the entropy of existence---
Entangled---
Ecclesiastic: turn, turn, turn.
Time—entropied away.
Mar 21, 2025
Mar 21, 2025 at 8:31 PM UTC
When the gravity of the moment stops
time.
When the probability of the end
falls
straight through the middle and we are centered
firmly
in the present. A Wait so great, there's no
Entropy.
The firmament stilled against its center.
Gravitational
A-Constant against our emergent mass.
Intrinsic vibrational force,
the center and the edge. Entanglement
edge and center, overlap, and collapsed,
fulminating
the wholeness where the radius tunnels
into and around and expounding the
infinity of existence inside of us.
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 3:42 PM UTC
Justice hikes her skirt
to swing ox-bowed legs
onto the gallow plank.
Eyes wide open, covered
not with a blindfold, but
a bag over her head-
hands-bound and weightless.
The bottom drops out.
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 2:23 PM UTC