A watercolor that I made #art #watercolor #painting #illustration

#vermont Let's go! Less than a week until our primaries!

Hello anonymous white boy bots, organic and synthetic: Stop accusing Black Americans of supporting genocide in Gaza. It's vile & absurd. You're anti-genocide, like most people? Great. Begin the work within, there is much work to do.

Cryin’ crony tech bro ponzi klan ass lost cause neo nazi schemes

Angèle Etoundi Essamba, Cameroonian photographer known for her photography in black and white particularly #WomensArt

Reminder [to myself] that almost all of my poetry and spoken word owes its existence to the Black lyrical, rhythm, and narrative masters of 90s and 00s conscious rap, hip-hop, and slam who liberated my heart and broke my mind in the best and most necessary ways. In infinite gratitude 🙏✌️

One of my favorite spoken #poetry wordplays ... Swimming in the lie -Ing in the sunshine Quenching perform mind nativity Deforming naive wilted clenching Ex-static muse culling rivering silt I'm ex-salted by rain mundantic pain Lifting buckets of fire wrenched fine From gurgling wells of space-time

in the beginning there was arrhythmia #chaos wayward winds swept the universe tempest held sway an unfathomable detonation became our prologue all was collapse and dispersal until rhythm claimed space then came vast harmonies life became a refrain a fugue an impromptu #vss365 #poetry #blueskypoets

I get overwhelmed with all the data, graphs, & electoral strategy conversations 🤷‍♂️ After primaries are over and we've registered our conscientious preferences, please get out the vote, help folks vet/get registered and ready, and support your local not-technochristokleptofascist candidates ✌️🙏

You ever have the feeling you are being followed? I don't speak Cluck, but I have a strong suspicion this clique of chickens may want something... grain-like 😂

Rot roh, Raggy Am I part of the trap? Thought I was exposin’ masks But I might be wearin’ a wrap Scooby snacks of comfort Got me high on my own script Ghost-huntin’ colonizers With a map counterfeit

Midsummer Vermont work from home lunch break. Someone needed some sun, fresh air, head and ear rubs, and a drool rag. Also, our Great Pyr, Jack, wanted some love, too 😂

They built walls of fear Proclaimed them doctrine Raised towers from trembling hands And called them faith. They scattered stars from the Goddess’ robe Then claimed they were fallen Taught us to beg for light From the sun we were born of

"This tall two-legged weirdo with the camera will never see me hiding behind this snake grass." - Juvenile female American Bullfrog (I think, I'm not a frogologist) 🐸

Northeastern yellow painted quackerus rubberyaxatl, my spirit animal 🤪

"Ecstatic seizures," he says, "are a subtype-" Too late. The term blooms into sensation. Not joy or pleasure. Something larger, less kind. A flooding. Conviction that whatever is happening is important beyond scale. The ordinary rules of salience revoke. I am in awe without object, your honor.

Words behave too well to be trusted. A word is never just a definition. It has ancestry, future consequences. Memory, neurons, trauma. Myth, archive, forgetting. Biology, poetry, exploitation, devotion, loss. Love. Silence. Meaning is not the same as truth. Intensity is not the same as wisdom.

You want to send it back. I see you. Want to wrap a million years of being into something small enough to land a payload, a signal, a lesson in hand. But the lesson is, it won't compress. The swing is not the meaning of the swing. The child is not delivering a message. She's just here.

I want to rise as mist into the sky and fall again as a raindrop. I want to coalesce on the roof of a cave and freefall into a puddle. I want to be the splash again.

“Well,” she begins, gesturing toward a display showing a live feed of a playground, or, at least what appears to be a whole bunch of movement superimposed over a model of a playground, “we’ve integrated sensors into the swings, slides, monkey bars, rings, seesaws-everything out there...

But like, why do new accounts with 0 followers and 0 posts follow me? What is the point? It's like the digital equivalent of a blacked out SUV idling at the end of my driveway. Social media is weird.

A clever young hacker Finds a vulnerability in vowels And open sources an opportunity To triple karmic returns on investment, Finding upon closer inspection An infinity sign, Not just a mere circle, Sitting between L, and V-E.

The free market fills up On high octane pyramid schemes Grabs a six pack of selfishness And does a nasty burnout In a quiet neighborhood late one night

After ~7 months of not knowing how we will make it through another winter here, I have a working furnace again. I might cry 🤣😂

He rolls his eyes at me, Tells me "fix this shit, Rage against the machine, Unleash the full force Of non-violent civil disobedience. Unite!! Strike mofo!!!",

“You’re doing fine,” the voice says, “or, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe you’re not. Hard to tell from in here.” It plays with me. Of course it does.

Choosing the least bad option Once every few years on a ballot Is not compromising one's ideals, As activism is not a set it & forget it Checking of a box But an every day, Continuous effort To bring the world around us More in alignment with the reality we want to live in. See you at The Potluck ✌️

Arm yourself with a flaming spear of empathy And destroy the apathy That keeps you from seeing Yourself and others compassionately. Destroy the lie that there is nothing we can do.

Anyway, forget what I am doing here [again] but recognize I am putting more energy into whatever it is than I have available. Be back in a month or something, probably. Love to you all and your friends, families, and communities ❤️