@literarypug@mastodon.world
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literarypug

@literarypug@mastodon.world

Lit·er·ar·y Pug /ˈlidəˌrerē puhg/ rearranging words, watching 𝐴𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒 🐶#poetry #5amwritersclub🐶 Editing 2023 poems. Life is Star Trek. Be mindful.

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literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Found my assembly
video on-line. I’ve
been doing it wrong.

Apparently I’m a
bookcase.

Replay is stuck
on infinite loop.

Which explains the
clouds, and lack
of O2

As I continue up.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

At museum school,
we learn how to stand
still.

A career in
what was, will be the
next thing.

Wear evolution like an
ugly holiday sweater,

nearby

copies of the tools of
the times carved from
obsidian,

with screens.

It’s ok if our thumbs
move.

Realism.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Interaction missed

And the next one
scheduled for 10.
What do we do with
our time then?

Staring, big roman numeral
clock at station center.

Baggy pants conductor
punching tickets.

Until the next scheduled
talk, cataloguing
metaphors.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Fortuitous calculus.
For every bird I held,
I’d find an additional
two in the cupboard.
Granted it wasn’t a bush
but providence adjusted.

Production was up,
one stone was
sufficient and
people were eating.
Then along came the
tango. Who knew
dancing, not eating,
was the goal.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

What a stupid choice.

And then, a sudden chance
to rewind it.

So you grab the handle
and uncrank.

People walking backwards,
building ice cream cones
with licks. Dogs unbarking,
and the moon gets away
with it.

So much undone. What
a stupid choice.

So you grab the handle…




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

This day was unlike others.

Oh sure, it’s the same
sweaty grime and
clenched grimace.
Sunlight’s slap
still stings, and
your ears ring
like yesterday.

But tomorrow is
today’s trite reunion.

Hoary day,
glory day,
On display a
different way.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

To be real, I tethered
myself to reality.

(Simple enough)

After the first 20 staples,
you hardly feel them.

Zip ties really held,
but all that plastic
seemed drastic.

In the end, the shocker:
I was team tapestry
all along.

prodigal pattern
returned

nine, stitched




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Are we vehicles
to propagate
nucleic acids,
or scaffolding
for feet that they
might erode the
topsoil, create
riverbeds, canyons,
or are we a chassis
for lungs that exhale
and push air and
move butterflies
effectively?




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Blue skies everyday.
If I see another blue
sky, I’m going to
scream ice cream
in my dreams.

We live in boxes. Boxes
with stiff stuff. Who
decided boxes? Will I
see another angle?
Pray tell. I’m going to yell.

When will we live in
yellow sky spheres?

I guess I’ll have to settle.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Having yesterday leftovers
today. I don’t feel meant
for the moment. Glances
and hollow helloes in the
back of the fridge, mossy.
Tough stuff thrown into
pot luck for simmering.
Achievements seem wilted.
We can always microwave.
Nutrition negligible. Chow
now, somehow.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

I’m wearing sleeves
on my insides. All the
uncool kids are
internalizing shirts,
and well-dressed
emotions with
pocket squares
are nominated
for awards. They
like them. They
really really
like them. And
the award goes to




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

I wore my Sunday’s finest.
I was not yet four.

Lazing around,
building block cities
from legos while

people pressed footprints
into lunar soil.

Hey. I did my part.
I visited sky wizard.
I built cities.

Mission not in control,

receiving poor
telemetry for
Monday.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Wanting for the
world to eschew those
opinions that I disown,

yet I subscribe privately
to their empiricism
with tomorrow’s vigor.

Everyone is fucking looking.

Ignominy tilts
my eyes down.

I can’t watch.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

How is it possible to
have writers block?
I’ve been trying to
stop the words for
years. Nasty, insidious
things.

Oh I closed my mind,
but they bribed the
doorman. More like
I’m in the elevator
and words want
to talk. “How’s
yer day?”, they
ask. I’m jabbing
L, repeatedly.
Then <>
.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Eyes half open.
I bolted steam
actuated movements
to my skull.

Do you believe me?

Sure, it’s minimalist.

Hey, I tried a Rube
Goldberg machine, but
speed overwhelms me.

I’m saving up for
a blink attachment.

Until then, eye drops every 20.




ghorwood, to random
@ghorwood@mastodon.social avatar

look, i’m obviously one of those crusty, old command-line-first linux guys, but hear me out: you don’t need to be “culturally linux” to use linux. you can just install it and use it and not make it part of your identity.

any of those distros people talk about will work fine, great even, right out of the box: popos, mint, fedora, elementary, zorin. it doesn’t really matter.

literarypug,
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

@ghorwood yes but some command line mastery is good for the soul.

literarypug,
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

@ghorwood nope never implies it. But I’d suggest it. I eschew the command line, but every once in a while taking some time to understand a little bit makes me a more effective icon clicker.

literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

A sea of clock hands
grab at time,

seeking arms.

Had it been different
long ago,

the little hand
being named
the big hand

and vice versa

then we’d have
five dozens
to win it

and what seems
like ours, could
take hours

rather than minutes.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Hold callus in your hand.
Catch abrasions on knees.
Prepare skin for laceration.
When it comes, cradle it.
Gaping wounds don’t appear
overnight. Reassure it, aside
from the callous of the world,
it will always have a home
with you, as it weeps.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Dialed a phone
(schick schick schick)
and called a friend.
We hailed a taxi to
a silent disco where
we played loud music
above the silence.

It had never been
done.

We reveled in our
rebellions.

As we spoke easy.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

The room where all
forgotten ideas go,
size unknown.

Undulating expand,
wavering contract?

Or fixed geometry.

Ideas increase,
crowding ensues.
Lost poems fuse with
unseen plans,
pressure, collapse.

Black hole, or biggest
bang, and creativity
every where
every when




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

We can numb it with
ice. It might take time.
But o’clock we’ve got.
And at absolute zero,
frozen stares and
charges flow in pairs,
with even the halting
halted on stairs, and
hate might as well
be a popsicle stand
and it’s loving
standing still,
by the way.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

“Today couldn’t have
been better!”
-some guy down the hall.

“Two thumbs enthusiastically up!”
-a chimp in the zoo

People and animals will soon cheer for today, promising to be the best day of the series yet.

Run, don’t walk, to today.
It’s playing all day.
Every day.
In a life, near you.




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

Sunrise is just a suggestion.

Calibration Services Inc
will do the hard work.

Morning stabbing you
in the retina?

Today’s din at skull
frequencies?

We’ve got you covered!

From full head wraps to
calibrated life dampening
we end life encroachment.

We avoid living, for you!




literarypug, to poetry
@literarypug@mastodon.world avatar

You get to travel
really far. But first
you had to be
transmogrified
to ash and gas,
and some of your
atoms will reach
escape velocity
and fall back into
the sun. It was
borrowed material
anyway, and fine
free Someday
was a good day
for returns anyway.




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