Wednesday, January 21, 2026

Screen Dump 843

The answer in question awaits . . .
costumed and ready . . .
There's little sense
in mapping the route
or in reconstructing the argument . . .
The cat has escaped the bag
with dissertations
waiting in the wing
to move in and have at it . . .
Just look at it differently . . .
Kierkegaard's rotation method, yes? . . .
You have passed the Driver's Test
and are finally roadworthy . . .
Advisors are at your beck and call . . .
Soon you will be off and running . . .
No need to be squeamish . . .

Kelly Boesch


Monday, January 19, 2026

Screen Dump 842

An unkindness of ravens stalks you
with forked-tongue misdirection
pulling labels, stalling the machine . . .
You fear for your inertness,
intimidated and defensive . . .
the question, How Should A person Be?
drops with forged watercolors . . .
And now word salad is being served
as placation . . . but the bigger story . . .
yes, the bigger story . . .
Abecedarian assemblages are no exception
with beauty the answer
and not just that . . .
so thoroughly disrupting
the urge to impose,
through a sense of your evolving self
despite the irrepressible narrative . . .

Sheila Heti


Tuesday, January 13, 2026

Screen Dump 841

A closed timeline curve plasters walls
with canary flyers opening to the fluidity
of dreamscapes . . . Everyone is inked . . .
in solidarity . . . the word out is beyond scary
looping back onto itself . . . painstakingly
slow black-and-white panning
squeezing scripts to fit the moment . . .
the experience . . . a thousand voices . . .
You raise your hand and are dropped . . .

Kelly Boesch


Monday, January 5, 2026

Screen Dump 840

Painting with a muted palette . . .
the foreboding promiscuity head-butting
to tempt happenstance
but how to do it
without intentionality, yes? . . .
Trails groomed by AI . . .
Objects of desire vanishing . . .
There is no joy in Mudville . . .
A Magic 8 Ball rolls in
with Ask again later . . .
Now what? . . .
Are you ready to click Resume? . . .
OK, maybe go with the cosplay? . . .
but what if a much of a which of a wind
{in fact} gives truth to the summer's lie? . . .

Kelly Boesch