Andrew McAlpine

I am bifurcating myself! Games and game talk over at @phantommill and this account for poetry / book talk. Sick of submitting poems so they'll prolly just show up here. Pick your brand of insufferable!

The world keeps on Not ending No god in the sky Pushing it along But on it rolls Moon music plays It burns and blooms For no one Holds no one close Kisses no one Keeps its secrets Whatever you happen to hear Was meant for someone else Cover your ears and walk

Hell is not a separate sphere But an animal that walks with us Waiting for a misstep or A long text or the right conditions That can turn a spark into fire A fire into a field of graves But only because it loves Running its tongue over The wounds we accumulate The iron and salt

@DankDungeons Hell yeah the book mill rules

Got out to this really amazing bookstore in western MA called The Montague Book Mill. They had a bunch of folklore titles and I even found an old copy of the Lone Wolf choose your own adventure game!

Winterly snow outside A winterly window What cheer Can be allocated To the rank-and-file In practical shoes? I’m holding out for Seasonally correct darkness Tryhard lights stowed So the feeble sun Can bleed out before us And so many hours left Somehow before sleep

I wish I had a river To struggle against Waist deep in icy water Stones sleeping beneath Lacerated bare feet How to unmake the current The trees the trees The false path leading to Dead spring dead mountain No glimmer but behind Veil of rotting leaves Sparkless and cold

@lastyears_model @cosmicomicsans Ah damn not Slim…

We hang ornaments On the year’s crooked bones. We light fires, do the old dances, Sing the old songs, even though They bounce off the night’s Cavernous ribs, heard only By us. Maybe a new age Will turn over, bathing us In new songs, new care. Maybe the sky will One day speak back

There is regular loneliness And winter loneliness And the discrete space between Looker and looked upon Where desire, and thus also Loneliness can be measured Like an equation, or spell. Instruct me, snow showers, How you jump en masse only To flutter and melt together.

I find myself wanting To talk to strangers (Never a good sign). My memory wipes clean Like a main st. window; I bless the people As they walk by. In this moment I feel unstoppably tender. They will disintegrate From me by nighttime but Right now I could weep I love them so much

My algorithms are reflecting back The person I seem to be Tbh this guy is a nightmare Always ready to click on any link Promising an easy million Or a glimpse of the good life Imagined to be everywhere Beyond the confines of this square Where he won’t stop talking

Again we play the nothing game The box is opened The dice rolled And already I cannot tell Where my body ends And the candlelight begins Some people are made for solidity But you and I know the truth Of the wavering hand— Snap once and disappear

I have smuggled myself Into the kingdom of sleep Leaving a trail of blood In its hidden alleys I am looking for the button That resets the simulation But though the streets Are lined with secrets Glimmering under the code I can’t see past the red mist Hissing from the punctures

How to staunch the lightning Touching eye and ear To the little rooms you live in How to shut the open door How to lock it How to ignore the peal Of a bell that vibrates Through the skull And keep trudging Through dust and snow

Everything collapses Or is headed toward collapse This old planet creaks and moans This old heart pumps reluctantly After ghosts and echoes Things imagined in a past unlike Our own, paved with gold How much weight can we carry Before we crumple and fold?

There hangs in the air A promise of transformation Man to bird of the sky Bird of the sky to beast Scouring the sea Our gods live below Even these depths Shading themselves In strange currents Each of our thoughts Carving them Shaping them Rewriting their names

There comes a time when we Must choose between terror And ache—what can be borne Versus what maybe cannot. A skater eats shit on a rail. A November sun careens Toward the hills. When fire Rises from the garden of Known paths we walk Off the trails. Night catches us.

Sturdy thyself, little flower Against chemical fires And post-climate winds Before us is a big dawn (We are told) And we must be ready To be fruitful in the new times Which are like these times (We are told) But further paved, weaknesses Further hidden against The morning knives

I sink deep into The voices of the dead Seeking the music Hidden under sibilance Of teeth and tongue Air escaping from The pathways of the lung Into the spheres Enveloping our globe Where we send emails And guess at the thoughts Of our fellow prisoners

Every moment at the precipice Of another. Friends, we live In an unending thriller— Every unfinished sentence Is a cliffhanger. I’ll blow the lid Off this whole thing, snip The right wire and pray In my remaining seconds That the fire that birthed us Will open its arms once more.

Arms akimbo, unbalanced And seeking a way to cross The foamy waters, god’s spittle Above and below, unsure If it is mockery or side effects Of a sloppy kiss, I keep thinking The skies can’t possibly Darken further but where is The candle that brought us here, Promised an exit?