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pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Matthew Muñoz :bon:
@pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
27 followers 0 following 330 posts
Demi-daily poetic detritus. Sibilant shibboleths. Feckless blasphemies. Python.

🌉 bridged from ⁂ https://m.knucklebones.rip/@pseudepigram, follow @ap.brid.gy to interact
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pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Ever look at a cloud?

#poetry #sonnet
Advection A pantomime of embryonic stars reconstituted; cheesecloth exhalations; misguided cauliflower cultivars; unsightly alabaster encrustations; intangibly-congealing perspiration; purple, retractile viscera unsheathed across diffracted solar indignations; angora undulated from beneath; cold seafoam, opalescing through a reef— cerulean’s matte surface-tension broken on coral conjunctivities of teeth; susurrus, irretrievably soft-spoken; Ouroboros’ disaffected fumes; Traverse-dimensioned funguses in bloom. Disorganized notes from the preceding poem in a daily planner.
January 3, 2026 at 1:01 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
George Sterling

#poetry #sonnet
Reason Her hands, that seem so pitiless, unbar The gates of her incomparable halls Where crowns of light make monarchs of her thralls, In whom the kingdoms of the Future are. Her eyes seem cruel, but they see afar, And her lips bitter, but their music falls As from the heavens the dawn, and from her walls The watchmen first descry the morning star. For she alone is truly merciful: The spectres of mirage her winds annul Have risen but for man's bewildering: And in the dusk descending to the grave Her dim and caverned lamp alone can save, Or show salvation but a futile thing.
December 31, 2025 at 12:36 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
I watch the bees slow down the summer I watch the bees slow down the summer. Honeysuckle sink beneath their substance. Sunlit busbies stuffed with sleep and ochre powder making journeys, wavery, vague, full of just-remembered purpose, so I come to think of aged gardeners, with their pots and hats and secret pockets full of dust, casting stuff on yellow air so seconds stretch (a whole long summer each, if we could only enter them) a gift of sorts, for us, a hunch, as if they've guessed, the bees, and understood the rock at the garden's end, the crouching sky, the path on its narrow belly, dropping to the sea. Carola Luther
December 27, 2025 at 12:51 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
A freebie from Bad Quarto: some Cheap Domains by @nickmofo
whatsappendectomy baphometaverse
December 25, 2025 at 8:55 PM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Dinner poem. From The House of Madeleine by Elaine Kraf.
There comes a time In the hearts of men When the clocks are Wound too tight Then they must give in Lest the heart divide Let the gander fly In the Western sky. There comes a time In the lives of men When the clocks are wound And they count to ten Then away they fly Lest the heart divide And the mushroom die In the darkened sky. For the heart has wings As well as springs And well it knows The dark divide Where the river ends And the darkness lies. There comes a time When all time is a lie And to trust the clock Is to crush the wing For all love lies In the dark divide Where the river ends And the senses fly.
December 21, 2025 at 8:55 PM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Inscription above the door to Hell from Dante’s Divine Trilogy Part 1: Hell, “englished” by Alasdair Gray.

#poetry
ENTER THROUGH ME, CITY OF ENDLESS WOE, ENTER THROUGH ME ETERNAL AGONY ENTER TO JOIN THE WHOLLY LOST BELOW CREATIVE LOVE, CREATIVE INTELLECT, ESTABLISHED ME FOR ALL ETERNITY. INFINITE JUSTICE IS MY ARCHITECT. NOTHING EXISTED BEFORE I WAS MADE. NOTHING EXISTING WILL ESCAPE MY SCOPE. ALL YOU WHO ENTER HERE, ABANDON HOPE!
December 19, 2025 at 3:28 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Peripatetic #senryu

(In pedantic morse code:)

https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Appendix:Morse_code#Pulse/silence_lengths
・ー ・ー
December 19, 2025 at 1:11 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Business haiku.

From Sons of Comtec by Ben Hutchings, Patrick Alexander, and Jesus Christ.

#haiku
A comic panel: a startled businessman swerves to face the viewer in an idyllic pasture. A hip CEO type reposes with butterfly in hand atop a cow. Stocks open—loud, rich. In this field, less common scents May come from sealed lips. The cover of Sons of Comtec: two businessmen lean back-to-back in a spacey checkerboard void dominated by the giant ethereal face of a businesswoman.
November 25, 2025 at 4:29 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
So what've you been working on?

This is a long one, a jaw-cracker in which an exhorter attempts the destruction of all things.

https://knucklebones.rip/kenotic-incantations.html

#poetry
spontaneous volutions of improbable ubiquity— a spiral; isomorphism’s procedural obliquity; heresiarch-anathemas’ aristocratic maundering; midrashic ataraxia’s agnosticism-laundering; lacrimatory overflows; the incompressibility of melancholy; taciturn mentality’s ductility;
November 22, 2025 at 9:12 PM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Rhyme of the day

https://rexegg.com/
The world's most tyrannosaurical regex tutorial
November 14, 2025 at 8:39 PM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
[sex poem]

As seen in Dayspring by Anthony Oliveira.

#sonnet
a sonnet to the asshole translated from the french [octet by verlaine; sestet by rimbaud] mauve rosebud, a puckering gentle pink an earthy twitch set in a humid loam gasps small and shy amid the love-spent foam as skimming cream runs down a frothing sink filament ooze tossed up a churning shore seeps down proud hills, and over bruising sides to your raw, red knot that blooms—abused, untied that sucks, and seethes, and sighs, and slackens sore in dreams i kiss this tawny olive musk in thoughts i sip spent juice from out its husk the taste of me mixed there with taste of you the sup of god, the distillation sweet your living font i ache to drink, to eat and taste the promised land in thickening dew
November 7, 2025 at 6:24 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
A gravestone reading: SHE LITERALLY COULDN'T EVEN 1991 - 2074
October 26, 2025 at 4:00 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
John Fuller poking fun at his own simile at the beginning of Flying to Nowhere.
As they strode by, the novices looked at the girls, and the first spoke a half voiced thought into the stifling privacy of his cowl: "Their strokes are like the strokes of the knife on used vellum. The erased word serves its turn and is restored like dead grass to the elements. The field is the book of nature to be freshly inscribed by our brother the sun.” These thoughts were themselves, he reflected, worthy of being inscribed in his book, and he resolved to submit them at the first opportunity to the Abbot for his approval.
October 23, 2025 at 5:32 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
From Ruination by Katie Jean Shinkle.
New Reports (unofficial): All of his daughters are soldered together with fan mushrooms coming out of their backs, as if they were born that way, looking like fins from afar, as if they are fishes hung up on a string, mouths together; his twin daughters are fused at the ankles by two saplings; the terrorist older daughter is trapped on her knees as if praying with the most magnificent magnolias you've ever seen swaddling her; his youngest daughter with filaments of cascading green from her head like cables, skewered vertically by a mimosa tree. The cover of Ruination: dark photograph of dense green leaves (ivy?).
October 11, 2025 at 8:19 PM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Love? poem.

(Motorman by David Ohle.)
Asking space Roberta gave me time. Having Time I gave Roberta Space. While the moonlights sail above the hoeblade, The noonlight's mine until the end comes. I touched her face Taking grace. While the sea belongs to me until the end comes. Wanting a month Roberta gave November. When the end comes, Roberta won't remember.
October 9, 2025 at 2:53 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Epigraph to Motorman by David Ohle.
Bricks are usually rectangular, because in that way they are most suitable for building the vertical walls of our houses. But anyone who has had to do with the stacking of stones of a non-cubic type will be well aware of other possibilities. For instance, one can make use of tetrahedrons alternating with octahedrons. They are not practicable for human beings to build with, because they make neither vertical walls nor horizontal floor. However, when this building is filled with water, flatworms can swim in it. —M.C. Escher
October 8, 2025 at 3:17 PM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Lennon on… the Wandering Jew? Wordsworth?
I Wandered On balmy seas and pernie schooners On strivers and warming things In a peanut coalshed clad I wandered happy as a jew To meet good Doris King. Past grisby trees and hulky builds Past ratters and bradder sheep In a resus baby stooped I wandered hairy as a dog To get a goobites sleep Down hovey lanes and stoney claves Down ricketts and sticklys myth In a fatty hebrew gurth I wandered humply as a sock To meet bad Bernie Smith
October 5, 2025 at 5:20 PM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Why is this so funny
A little Mazda sports car with a California license plate reading “LACAN”.
September 28, 2025 at 5:26 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Made a quick Pied Beauty rendition based on an idea from al Alpaca Conference talk.

https://knucklebones.rip/pied-beauty-counting-chickens.html

I like how the spaces end up looking like those programming editor “show invisibles” spaces.

#vispo #generativeart
Pied Beauty by Gerard Manley Hopkins encoded as 9x9 pixel grids representing the binary ASCII characters of the poem.
September 24, 2025 at 4:30 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Erik Satie
FAKE NOCTURNE The night is silent. The melancholy is huge. A will-o'-the-wisp troubles the tranquil landscape. What a bore! It is an old will-o'-the-wisp. Did it really have to come? Let's go back to our dreaming, please.
September 22, 2025 at 12:18 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
The authors own limerick on flea anatomy.

#limericks
A flea climbing out of my beverage Said "My wife is much taller than average. How can I keep her? I can't even leap her Without using one dick for leverage."
September 14, 2025 at 4:22 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
Short history of flea poems from Great Topics of the World by Albert Goldbarth.
The poemlet often called "Fleas" (I believe it's anonymous; sometimes you find it billed as "the briefest poem in the English language"): Adam Had 'em. places our prickler squarely at The Beginning: it was naked flesh from the word "go." (Actually, fleas date from the Cretaceous, when a two-winged ancestor scavenger-insect discovered that blood was not only a nourishing swill, but high on the findability scale; wings atrophied, legs grew resourcefully jumpworthy: this was the proto-flea.) Goldbarth has written — addressing both the antiquity and the ubiquity of this intimate relationship — an "Addendum Couplet": As did Madam. and pretty much prides himself on it.
September 14, 2025 at 4:21 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
So close to 5/7/5….

(Rise of the Golden Idol: The Lemurian Phoenix)

#haiku #videogames
Three sentences in fictional ancient Lemurian pictograms translating to: fire will not burn you. waterfall will protect you. fire will kill your brother.
September 14, 2025 at 1:52 AM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
#bloomscrolling
A big ole triangular red flower.
September 6, 2025 at 11:53 PM
pseudepigram.m.knucklebones.rip.ap.brid.gy
The previous owner of this Wilfred Owen collection has some questions.
The final stanza of Dulce Et Decorum Est. The phrase “Dulce et decorum est / Pro patria mori” is underlined in blue pen. “What dies this mean?” is written nearby.
September 1, 2025 at 5:37 PM