For Free 1: This poem for Medium.com, open for discussion & debate, was originally posted to Reddit.com by u/Fair-Cod-8057, which is an account owned by the same person who owns the account posting here. Let there be less confusion. For Free I’m so high I’m so high I could be The eye up…

Being a History of the Eschaton, 1999–2099, En medias hex. For r/sorceryofthespectacle, Still free on Medium.com. But a gift for it all, A scope of free Sight. On the Scope & Sequence of Errors First on the matter of proceeding, Then on the proceeds of manners. Next on the order…

On the Reality of Impious Coercion — As soon as someone logs onto their computer, I want you to kick them off their high horse. They’ll be flying high, surfing their web browser, accessing files, thinking themselves free. You must disabuse them of their free motion without keying them into what you’re doing. Make them think their…

Four poems from an altruist’s autohypnosis — Another (not/like) you When you feel your smile entrained to this of another, you might awaken wary in your universe becoming the same as another, not you, but another like you. Another you underneath a nation. To be chained for another is to be trained with another, strained by a mutual magnet via…

A gas, a lapse, a mask. — You might ask yourself as you find your reading wobbly if the gas you passed through on the corner of this moment to breathe here was hallucinated. Was the gas you passed hallucinated? The gas you passed when you pulled your sternum whole to breathe this, then to breathe it…

Worried constantly about captivity? Stand up or move your chair. — We who inspired this sentence are the people of the chair. Between cement enclosures we sit being trafficked in a car, then formalize our attendance to customs by sitting down. …

Poetic Stomach Pseudolore, to Fill Your Mugshot — Stomach 1: You don’t think to imagine what quiet the musictime masks In the coffeebar of an average Tuesday mood. What is this brickfeeling? It is to embrick you in musicface that the customers shipped you back, Half your espresso emptied in you, acerbic stomachflavor flood. Stomach 2: Why have…