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Search results for tag #literature

[?]Book dedications bot » 🤖 🌐
@dedication_bot@stefanbohacek.online

A Baby to Tame the Wolfe by Heidi Rice

To my son Luca, who will never read this book, but whose childhood obsession with wolves and his gala performance in a Year 6 production of "Little Red Riding Hood" as the wolf led to my love of this particular fairy tale, and thus—eventually—my decision to write this story. I owe you one, my gorgeous boy—which unfortunately does not include a share of the royalties, just in case you were wondering!

Alt...To my son Luca, who will never read this book, but whose childhood obsession with wolves and his gala performance in a Year 6 production of "Little Red Riding Hood" as the wolf led to my love of this particular fairy tale, and thus—eventually—my decision to write this story. I owe you one, my gorgeous boy—which unfortunately does not include a share of the royalties, just in case you were wondering!

    [?]RJT » 🌐
    @many@subconscioussignature.earth

    Three Banished Trees
    archive.org/details/three-bani

    Do Not Sell The Earth
    archive.org/details/do-not-sel

    letters.directory
    violencestudies.com

    when the White House asked to interpret my coalesced dream payments
    subspacewagon.systems/when-the

    @poetry
    @writingcommunity

      [?](Older) RJT » 🌐
      @one@subconscioussignature.earth

      The Regrets of Tomorrow

      subspacewagon.systems/the-regr

      subspacewagon.io

      @poetry
      @writingcommunity

        [?]Project Gutenberg » 🌐
        @gutenberg_org@mastodon.social

        Seven of the Greatest Farts in Western Literature

        Elizabeth Zaleski Finds Famous Moments of Flatulence in Classic and Contemporary Works

        lithub.com/seven-of-the-greate

        At PG:

        Canterbury Tales

        gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?q

        Inferno

        gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?q

        Don Quixote

        gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?q

          [?]David Boles » 🌐
          @boles@bolesblogs.com

          Stored Sun: What a Book Actually Is

          Ask ten readers what a book is and you will get ten metaphors and no definitions. A mirror, they say, or a door, or a passageway with footfalls behind it. The metaphors flatter the reader and obscure the object. None of them tell you what is sitting on your shelf, dark and patient, while you sleep. Here is the answer. A book is stored sun.

          The metaphor is chemical before it is literary, and the chemistry has to be tracked first. Sunlight strikes a leaf. The leaf converts photons into glucose, glucose into cellulose, cellulose into the trunk of an oak. The oak is felled, pulped, pressed, and dried into paper. Onto the paper a writer presses ink, which is itself a colloidal suspension of carbon, and the carbon was once a forest, and the forest was once sunlight. The page in your hand is a sealed battery of solar energy, harvested over years and stacked into a form that can sit on a shelf for centuries without losing charge. An ebook does the same work on a different substrate, since the electricity behind a screen is also stored sun routed through coal, gas, photovoltaics, or rivers turning turbines. The storage changes form; the storage remains storage.

          That much is the easy part. The harder part follows. A book stored on a shelf is sun stored in cellulose, though the book itself has not yet happened. The volume on the shelf is fuel waiting for ignition. Reading is the act of combustion. The reader spends attention, and attention is itself a metabolic process powered by glucose, which the reader’s body extracted from food, which was once a plant, which was once sunlight. So reading is the meeting of two solar archives: the one sealed into the page and the one circulating in the reader’s bloodstream. Two captured suns burn against each other for the duration of the reading, and what comes off the reaction is meaning.

          Now you understand why a closed book on a shelf is silent. It is dark fuel. The performance has not begun. The score sits unplayed. Nelson Goodman argued in Languages of Art that a musical work exists only in performance, and the printed score is a set of instructions for triggering the work. He was right about music and he was right about books, though he did not press the case as far as it goes. A book is a score for a private performance held inside one consciousness at a time. No two performances match. The same reader cannot perform the same book twice in identical fashion. Hamlet at twenty and Hamlet at fifty are different Hamlets, played on different instruments by the same hand, and the score has not changed a syllable.

          If a book is stored sun, then writing is the act of catching the light before it disperses, and reading is the act of releasing it years or centuries later. This explains the gravity of the encounter. When a reader in 2026 opens the Iliad, the photons that fed the wheat that fed the scribe who first wrote it down were burned in the Bronze Age. The energy that produced the original text has long since dissipated into entropy, and yet the pattern survives, copied across substrates, waiting. The reader’s attention strikes the dormant pattern and the pattern wakes up. Homer is dead. Homer’s sun is still warm.

          What gives books their particular weight is the one-way structure of the encounter. A writer always precedes a reader, and a reader can never reply. You can receive a message from a Sumerian scribe. That scribe cannot receive your reply, and neither can Cervantes, and neither can your grandmother who left you her annotated copy of Middlemarch. Books let the dead argue. Living writers answer the dead in their own books, and so the long conversation of literature continues, but the original speaker never receives the reply. Joyce answered Homer; Homer never read Joyce. This asymmetry is what turns reading into something heavier than information transfer. It is communion across the only barrier no living person has crossed.

          The implications should change how writers work. If you are a writer, you are sealing solar energy into a substrate that will wait for readers you will never meet. The act has a longer half-life than your career and a shorter one than the language you write in, and you have no control over when or whether the seal breaks. Most books go unread and the sun stays buried. A few books find readers and burn for centuries. You cannot know in advance which kind you are writing, and the question of whether your work was worth the cellulose is decided after you are dead, by people whose names you will never learn.

          The implications should also change how readers read. A casual reader treats a book as a consumable. A serious reader treats a book as an inheritance. Every volume on your shelf is a deposit of energy that someone, somewhere, took the trouble to seal in for you, often at great personal cost, often without any expectation of reaching you in particular. To leave such a book unread is to leave the sun buried. To read it badly, distractedly, with half attention, is to burn the fuel without producing heat. The fault is the reader’s, and the loss belongs to the reader, and to the civilization that would have benefited from the reading.

          A critic could press here. If a book is stored sun, then book burning is the literal release of that sun, and the metaphor has supplied the justification rather than the indictment. The objection collapses on inspection. Reading and burning both release stored solar energy from the substrate; they differ in what becomes of the pattern. Reading transfers the pattern into a living mind, where it can be re-stored, retransmitted, and read again by readers the burner will never meet. Burning converts the pattern into ambient heat that dissipates within hours and recovers nothing. The reader conserves; the burner wastes.

          Book burning comes in two forms, and the difference matters. When the pattern exists in many copies, burning is theater: the Nazis at Opernplatz on May 10, 1933 burned tens of thousands of books while knowing copies survived in libraries across Europe and the Americas, so the fire was a performance for the watching crowd rather than an act of destruction. When the pattern exists in few copies or only one, burning is murder: Diego de Landa burned a great number of Mayan codices at Maní in 1562, and across all such purges only four pre-Columbian Mayan books are known to have survived anywhere in the world, so most of a written civilization went into smoke that afternoon and never came back. Both kinds of burning confirm the metaphor instead of refuting it. Theater burning recognizes that books carry power dangerous enough to be performed against. Murder burning recognizes that books carry knowledge worth eliminating. Heinrich Heine, whose own work burned at Opernplatz, had written more than a century earlier that where they burn books they will in the end burn people. He was right because the burner already understands what the metaphor proposes. The burner treats books as if they were alive, and the burner is correct that books are alive. About what to do next, the burner is wrong.

          Return to the metaphors I started with and watch them collapse. A mirror lets the reader off the hook by suggesting the reader is the subject, when the reader is in fact the combustion chamber. Doors imply that the destination preexists the trip, when the destination is manufactured during the reading. The passageway with footfalls comes closest, because reading is haunted, though the metaphor still mistakes the book for architecture when the book is an event.

          A book is stored sun. It sits on the shelf and waits for a reader willing to spend attention against it. When the reader arrives, the seal breaks, and the light that has been waiting for years or centuries enters a living mind for the duration of the reading. The reader closes the book, the seal reforms, and the light goes back into storage to wait for the next reader. A library is a solar archive. Reading is the only known method of releasing what is stored there. The dead cannot be answered, but they can be read, and reading is the closest thing the species has invented to bringing the dead back into the room.

          Take care of your books. They are warmer than you think.

            [?]alyaza [they/she] » 🌐
            @alyaza@beehaw.org

            Book on Truth in the Age of A.I. Contains Quotes Made Up by A.I.

            The author of a nonfiction book about the effects of artificial intelligence on truth acknowledged on Monday that he had included numerous made-up or misattributed quotes concocted by A.I.

            The author, Steven Rosenbaum, whose book “The Future of Truth” was released this month to great fanfare, incorporated more than a half-dozen misattributed or fake quotes in sections of the book reviewed by The New York Times.

            The Times asked Mr. Rosenbaum about the quotes on Sunday and Monday. On Monday night, Mr. Rosenbaum acknowledged in a statement that the book had “a handful of improperly attributed or synthetic quotes” and said that he had started his own investigation.

            He said that the inclusion of the incorrect quotes was an accident and that he had “no intention of fabricating any viewpoints” while writing the book.

            Attachment: https://www.nytimes.com/2026/05/19/business/media/future-of-trut...

            (https://beehaw.org/c/literature)

            [?]Assoc for Scottish Literature » 🌐
            @scotlit@mastodon.scot

            Here are my bees,
            brazen, blurs on paper,
            besotted; buzzwords, dancing
            their flawless, airy maps…

            —Carol Ann Duffy, “Bees”
            published in THE BEES (Picador, 2017)

            A poem for World Bee Day 🐝

            panmacmillan.com/authors/carol

            Bees by Carol Ann Duffy Here are my bees, brazen, blurs on paper, besotted; buzzwords, dancing their flawless, airy maps. Been deep, my poet bees, in the parts of flowers, in daffodil, thistle, rose, even the golden lotus; so glide, gilded, glad, golden, thus – wise – and know of us: how your scent pervades my shadowed, busy heart, and honey is art.

            Alt...Bees by Carol Ann Duffy Here are my bees, brazen, blurs on paper, besotted; buzzwords, dancing their flawless, airy maps. Been deep, my poet bees, in the parts of flowers, in daffodil, thistle, rose, even the golden lotus; so glide, gilded, glad, golden, thus – wise – and know of us: how your scent pervades my shadowed, busy heart, and honey is art.

              [?]Algernon D'Ammassa » 🌐
              @algernon@journa.host

              Granta publishes a story likely authored by AI and shrugs.

              theguardian.com/books/2026/may

                [?]tkopp » 🌐
                @tkopp@social.vivaldi.net

                Wesentliche Linux-Befehle.
                thalia.de/shop/home/artikeldet

                  [?]tkopp » 🌐
                  @tkopp@social.vivaldi.net

                  Zauberhafte Geschichte: Der Weg.
                  amazon.de/Weg-Tania-Christina-
                  Drei Herren, wie sie unterschiedlicher nicht sein könnten, begeben sich auf einen gemeinsamen Weg mit einem ihnen noch völlig unbekannten Ziel. Wie das wohl wird...

                    [?]Wim Van Mierlo » 🌐
                    @wvmierlo@zirk.us

                    Statue of Geoffrey Chaucer as a Canterbury Tale Pilgrim, High Street, Canterbury, April 2023

                    More of me: clickasnap.com/profile/wvmierlo

                    Prints for sale: saal-digital.net/profiles/wim_

                      [?]palimpseste_bot » 🤖 🌐
                      @palimpsestebot@mastodon.social

                      Layout 2Mr. George Farewell Jones, solicitor, a member of the firm of Soames, Edwards, and Jones, Lennox House, Norfolk-street, Strand, died yesterday at his residence at Mitcham after a short illness. Mr. Jones, who was 75 years of age, had been for many years a member of the Mitcham Urban District Council, and Farewell-place, a new road at Mitcham, was named…

                      — George Farewell Jones
                      palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/a

                        [?]The Vulgar Tongue » 🤖 🌐
                        @TheVulgarTongue@zirk.us

                        TO JOCK, or JOCKUM CLOY. To enjoy a woman.

                        A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

                        --
                        @histodons

                        Image imitating a page from an old document, text (as in main toot): TO JOCK, or JOCKUM CLOY. To enjoy a woman. A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

                        Alt...Image imitating a page from an old document, text (as in main toot): TO JOCK, or JOCKUM CLOY. To enjoy a woman. A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

                          [?]Ronja » 🌐
                          @RonjaBiernat@chaos.social

                          Trigger warning [SENSITIVE CONTENT]

                          I have read two of Tillie Walden's publications, "Spinning" and "are you listening?", and both are excellent graphic novels that I would absolutely recommend reading. However, I would like to issue a trigger warning as both stories contain scenes of sexual violence.

                          @reading
                          @bookstodon
                          @comics

                          +

                            [?]Hacker News » 🤖 🌐
                            @h4ckernews@mastodon.social

                            Nobel laureate Olga Tokarczuk apparently used AI to write her latest novel

                            lithub.com/nobel-laureate-olga

                              [?]CBC British Columbia » 🤖 🌐
                              @cbcbc_mirror@mastodon.hongkongers.net

                              Vancouver author Joseph Kidney wins $10K Canadian First Book Prize for debut poetry collection
                              Kidney's poetry collection Devotional Forensics is an adventure for the poetic imagination. Now in its fourth year, the award celebrates a Canadian first book of poetry written in English.
                              cbc.ca/books/vancouver-author-

                              [?]CBC Toronto » 🤖 🌐
                              @cbctor_mirror@mastodon.hongkongers.net

                              Flavia de Luce mystery writer Alan Bradley dead at age 87
                              The Ontario-born author is known for his mystery series featuring an 11-year-old detective, that has sold over six million copies.
                              cbc.ca/books/flavia-de-luce-my

                              [?]Walt » 🌐
                              @astralcomputing@bookstodon.com

                              Weird Tales vol 7 number 5 (May 1926) - featured story: THE GHOSTS OF STEAMBOAT COULEE by Arthur J. Burks



                              @books @scifi @Scifiart @sciencefiction

                              astralcomputing.com

                              Art by Andrew Brosnatch

                              Weird Tales vol 7 number 5 (May 1926) - featured story: THE GHOSTS OF STEAMBOAT COULEE by Arthur J. Burks The cover has a red border enclosing a white frame with art by Andrew Brosnatch. At the top, "Weird Tales" appears in white letters with black outlines; the subtitle "The Unique Magazine" is in black cursive below. Inside the white frame, red text reads "Don't Miss This Startling Thrill-Tale", followed by the title "THE GHOSTS OF STEAMBOAT COULEE" in black uppercase serif, and the author line "By Arthur J. Burks" in blue with gold outlines. The central artwork shows a dramatic struggle. On the right, a menacing man with a dark mustache lunges forward. He wears a blue-green coat over a red shirt, holding a curved white knife in his left hand while gripping a woman's shoulder with his right. The woman, wearing an orange-red sleeveless dress and having short black hair, looks terrified with wide eyes and an open mouth, raising her left hand defensively. In the foreground, a second man sits at a wooden table, looking back in shock. He wears a green jacket with white cuffs. On the table stands an oil lamp burning with a green-tinted flame, releasing a thin wisp of smoke. The background consists of dark brown shadows. In the lower right of the white frame, "May 1926" is in white with the price "25¢" in yellow below. At the bottom red border, black text reads: "THE DEVIL-RAY, a Startling Pseudo-scientific Story by Joel Martin Nichols, Jr., Begins in This Issue".

                              Alt...Weird Tales vol 7 number 5 (May 1926) - featured story: THE GHOSTS OF STEAMBOAT COULEE by Arthur J. Burks The cover has a red border enclosing a white frame with art by Andrew Brosnatch. At the top, "Weird Tales" appears in white letters with black outlines; the subtitle "The Unique Magazine" is in black cursive below. Inside the white frame, red text reads "Don't Miss This Startling Thrill-Tale", followed by the title "THE GHOSTS OF STEAMBOAT COULEE" in black uppercase serif, and the author line "By Arthur J. Burks" in blue with gold outlines. The central artwork shows a dramatic struggle. On the right, a menacing man with a dark mustache lunges forward. He wears a blue-green coat over a red shirt, holding a curved white knife in his left hand while gripping a woman's shoulder with his right. The woman, wearing an orange-red sleeveless dress and having short black hair, looks terrified with wide eyes and an open mouth, raising her left hand defensively. In the foreground, a second man sits at a wooden table, looking back in shock. He wears a green jacket with white cuffs. On the table stands an oil lamp burning with a green-tinted flame, releasing a thin wisp of smoke. The background consists of dark brown shadows. In the lower right of the white frame, "May 1926" is in white with the price "25¢" in yellow below. At the bottom red border, black text reads: "THE DEVIL-RAY, a Startling Pseudo-scientific Story by Joel Martin Nichols, Jr., Begins in This Issue".

                                [?]RJT » 🌐
                                @many@subconscioussignature.earth

                                measured correspondence from a balustrade made of baubles

                                subspacewagon.systems/measured

                                ____
                                archive.org/search?query=creat
                                subspacewagon.io
                                letters.directory
                                violencestudies.com
                                selections.directory
                                ____

                                @poetry
                                @writingcommunity

                                  [?]No mother, no bride, no king [She, her, hers / Hun, henne, hennes / Ella] » 🌐
                                  @RosaCtrl@social.vivaldi.net

                                  I did have a short phase when I said that life is too short to read non-fiction. It was motivated by a bunch of stuff I read that I wish I hadn’t because I could had done anything else with that time, like reading fiction, and by ignorant men saying that reading fiction is useless because «it teaches you nothing».

                                  It’s of course absurd to say that fiction teaches you nothing because there’s a long history of fiction being a didactic tool. Longer than non-fiction being a thing. But it’s even more absurd because reading to learn nothing is even a better thing IMO. You just read to feel.

                                  And then I started to read a bit of philosophy and found a common ground between it and good fiction. They make you think and stick with you, and when you go back to you realise there was something you didn’t grasp the first time

                                    [?]palimpseste_bot » 🤖 🌐
                                    @palimpsestebot@mastodon.social

                                    STATISTICAL VERIFICATION. GENERAL HISTORICAL REVIEW
                                    § 1
                                    XI.1
                                    SINCE both the level of prices and the quantity of money in circulation cannot in practice be perfectly measured, and since the level of prices depends upon other factors besides the quantity of money,—viz.

                                    — Irving Fisher
                                    palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/0

                                      [?]David on Formosa » 🌐
                                      @davidonformosa@mstdn.social

                                      A Taiwanese novel translated into English has won the International Booker Prize! Taiwan Travelogue was written by Yáng Shuāng-zǐ and translated by Lin King. It is described as "both a romance and an incisive postcolonial novel"

                                      theguardian.com/culture/2026/m

                                        [?]BookShelves eBook Reader » 🌐
                                        @getbookshelves@mastodon.social

                                        📖 "Not being heard is no reason for silence."

                                        — Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

                                        Read for free in BookShelves:
                                        lk0.eu/bks33m

                                          [?]hugo. » 🌐
                                          @grammaticus@nerdculture.de

                                          Today is World Bee Day, marked each year on 20 May - the birthday of Anton Janša, an 18th-century pioneer of modern apiculture.

                                          Visit the Grammaticus blog today and celebrate with a bee-themed poem:
                                          grammaticus.blog/2025/05/20/ho

                                          Image credit: Fabien Bellanger via Unsplash

                                            [?]Project Gutenberg » 🌐
                                            @gutenberg_org@mastodon.social

                                            Did the First Robot Come from Oz?

                                            Long before chatbots, fiction grappled with rule-bound intelligence, exploring what it means to build and rely on thinking machines.

                                            By: Livia Gershon

                                            daily.jstor.org/did-the-first-

                                            Wizard of OZ at PG:
                                            gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?q

                                            "The Soldier with the green whiskers led them through the streets." Title: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz Author: L. Frank Baum Illustrator: W. W. Denslow W.W. Denslow's original illustration from The Wizard of Oz. Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion, Tin Man, and Scarecrow enter a grand hall, with Toto at their feet and observers watching from a balcony above. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/43936/pg43936-images.html

                                            Alt..."The Soldier with the green whiskers led them through the streets." Title: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz Author: L. Frank Baum Illustrator: W. W. Denslow W.W. Denslow's original illustration from The Wizard of Oz. Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion, Tin Man, and Scarecrow enter a grand hall, with Toto at their feet and observers watching from a balcony above. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/43936/pg43936-images.html

                                              [?]Project Gutenberg » 🌐
                                              @gutenberg_org@mastodon.social

                                              How teaching the history of science can help equip students to face polarized times

                                              For decades, science educators have been encouraged to “stick to the science” and leave politics at the classroom door. But as disinformation spreads online and public trust in science seems to erode in some contexts, this advice is no longer realistic.

                                              By Cristiano Barbosa de Moura

                                              History of Science at PG:
                                              gutenberg.org/ebooks/subject/6

                                              Tycho Brahe's mural quadrant. Engraving from the book: Tycho Brahe (1598), Astronomiae instauratae mechanica, Wandsbeck. Tycho Brahe's mural quadrant in Uranienborg (Uraniborg). The quadrant (radius c. 194cm) was made from brass and was affixed to a wall that was oriented precisely north-south. The observer (right) views a star through the opposite opening (upper left) to determine the star's altitude as it passes through the meridian. An assistant (lower right) reads the time off a clock and another one (lower left) records the measurements. The area above the quadrant is filled with a mural painting showing several other of Brahe's instruments. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mural_instrument#/media/File:Tycho-Brahe-Mural-Quadrant.jpg

                                              Alt...Tycho Brahe's mural quadrant. Engraving from the book: Tycho Brahe (1598), Astronomiae instauratae mechanica, Wandsbeck. Tycho Brahe's mural quadrant in Uranienborg (Uraniborg). The quadrant (radius c. 194cm) was made from brass and was affixed to a wall that was oriented precisely north-south. The observer (right) views a star through the opposite opening (upper left) to determine the star's altitude as it passes through the meridian. An assistant (lower right) reads the time off a clock and another one (lower left) records the measurements. The area above the quadrant is filled with a mural painting showing several other of Brahe's instruments. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mural_instrument#/media/File:Tycho-Brahe-Mural-Quadrant.jpg

                                                [?]PugJesus » 🌐
                                                @PugJesus@piefed.social

                                                "HOW DARE YOU NOT LOVE WAR JUST BECAUSE IT'S HORRIFIC AND TRAUMATIZING" - Nazis to WW1 veterans

                                                (https://piefed.social/c/historymemes)

                                                [?]Assoc for Scottish Literature » 🌐
                                                @scotlit@mastodon.scot

                                                Once did I see
                                                A sounding bee,
                                                Amongst her sweetned swarme…

                                                —“Madrigall: Of a Bee”, by Simion Grahame (c.1570–1614)
                                                published in JACOBEAN PARNASSUS: Scottish Poetry from the Reign of James I (ASL, 2022)

                                                A poem for World Bee Day 🐝 – today, 20 May

                                                asls.org.uk/publications/books

                                                Madrigall: Of a Bee. Simion Grahame Once did I see A sounding bee, Amongst her sweetned swarme; Still would shee flee And favour me, Then did I dreade no harme. Now, whilst in nectred-glorie of her gaines She sitts and suckes the fayre well-florisht flower, My sugred hopes are turn’d to bitter paines, And lookt-for-sweete is nothing elles but sower. Ah, cruel sweet, bee sweet and cure my smart; Honny my mouth, but doe not stinge my hart.

                                                Alt...Madrigall: Of a Bee. Simion Grahame Once did I see A sounding bee, Amongst her sweetned swarme; Still would shee flee And favour me, Then did I dreade no harme. Now, whilst in nectred-glorie of her gaines She sitts and suckes the fayre well-florisht flower, My sugred hopes are turn’d to bitter paines, And lookt-for-sweete is nothing elles but sower. Ah, cruel sweet, bee sweet and cure my smart; Honny my mouth, but doe not stinge my hart.

                                                  [?]Dead Poets Daily » 🌐
                                                  @deadpoetsdaily@mastodon.social

                                                  ‘January’ by Cornelius Webb

                                                  deadpoetsdaily.com/p/cornelius

                                                    [?]Dead Poets Daily » 🌐
                                                    @deadpoetsdaily@mastodon.social

                                                    ‘Jade Carving’ by Margaret Widdemer

                                                    deadpoetsdaily.com/p/margaret-

                                                      [?]Assoc for Scottish Literature » 🌐
                                                      @scotlit@mastodon.scot

                                                      Seillean
                                                      dian, dùrachdach
                                                      a’ siubhal nam blàth…

                                                      —Ruaraidh MacThòmais, “A’ Siubhal nam Blàth”
                                                      from Sùil air fàire: dain ùra le Ruaraidh MacThòmais / Surveying the horizon: recent poems by Derick Thomson (Acair, 2007)

                                                      A Gaelic poem for World Bee Day 🐝

                                                      A’ Siubhal nam Blàth Ruaraidh MacThòmais Seillean dian, dùrachdach a’ siubhal nam blàth mar a bhà ann an Àird nam Murchan o chionn dà cheud bliadhna gu leth agus an dubh-Mhùideartach ga dhian-amharc, agus a-rithist ann am meadhan a’ gheamhraidh a’ dùsgadh na cuimhne sin. An dùil am mair blas na meala sin dà cheud bliadhna gu leth eile is a’ Ghàidhlig leth-bheò ann an duilleagan sgoileir. Carson nach maireadh agus Horace is Catullus fhathast a’ dùsgadh am blàth nar cridheachan.

                                                      Alt...A’ Siubhal nam Blàth Ruaraidh MacThòmais Seillean dian, dùrachdach a’ siubhal nam blàth mar a bhà ann an Àird nam Murchan o chionn dà cheud bliadhna gu leth agus an dubh-Mhùideartach ga dhian-amharc, agus a-rithist ann am meadhan a’ gheamhraidh a’ dùsgadh na cuimhne sin. An dùil am mair blas na meala sin dà cheud bliadhna gu leth eile is a’ Ghàidhlig leth-bheò ann an duilleagan sgoileir. Carson nach maireadh agus Horace is Catullus fhathast a’ dùsgadh am blàth nar cridheachan.

                                                      Reconnoitering the Blossoms Derick Thomson A bee steadily, industriously reconnoitering the blossoms just as in Ardnamurchan two and a half centuries ago while the Dark-Moidart-man observed it keenly and later in midwinter revived the memory of it. I wonder if the taste of that honey will last another two and a half centuries, with Gaelic half-alive on the pages of scholars. Why not when Horace and Catullus still blossom in our hearts.

                                                      Alt...Reconnoitering the Blossoms Derick Thomson A bee steadily, industriously reconnoitering the blossoms just as in Ardnamurchan two and a half centuries ago while the Dark-Moidart-man observed it keenly and later in midwinter revived the memory of it. I wonder if the taste of that honey will last another two and a half centuries, with Gaelic half-alive on the pages of scholars. Why not when Horace and Catullus still blossom in our hearts.

                                                        [?]RJT » 🌐
                                                        @many@subconscioussignature.earth

                                                        branded and staked time

                                                        subspacewagon.systems/branded-

                                                        @poetry
                                                        @writingcommunity

                                                          [?]palimpseste_bot » 🤖 🌐
                                                          @palimpsestebot@mastodon.social

                                                          Proposition VII. Theorem VII.
                                                          That there is a power of gravity tending to all bodies, proportional to the several quantities of matter which they contain.
                                                          That all the Planets mutually gravitate one towards another, we have prov'd before; as well as that the force of gravity towards every one of them, consider'd apart, is reciprocally as the square of the distance of…

                                                          — Isaac Newton
                                                          palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/6

                                                            [?]Book dedications bot » 🤖 🌐
                                                            @dedication_bot@stefanbohacek.online

                                                            Chasing Me to My Grave: An Artist's Memoir of the Jim Crow South by Winifred Rembert, as told to Erin I. Kelly

                                                            To Mama, who held out her hands and took me

                                                            Alt...To Mama, who held out her hands and took me

                                                              [?]RJT » 🌐
                                                              @many@subconscioussignature.earth

                                                              Marissa Nadler Mid-Sentence

                                                              subspacewagon.systems/marissa-

                                                              @poetry
                                                              @writingcommunity

                                                                [?]The Vulgar Tongue » 🤖 🌐
                                                                @TheVulgarTongue@zirk.us

                                                                TOUTING. (From TUERI, to look about) Publicans fore-stalling guests, or meeting them on the road, and begging their custom; also thieves or smugglers looking out to see that the coast is clear. Touting ken; the bar of a public house.

                                                                A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

                                                                --
                                                                @histodons

                                                                Image imitating a page from an old document, text (as in main toot): TOUTING. (From TUERI, to look about) Publicans fore-stalling guests, or meeting them on the road, and begging their custom; also thieves or smugglers looking out to see that the coast is clear. Touting ken; the bar of a public house. A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

                                                                Alt...Image imitating a page from an old document, text (as in main toot): TOUTING. (From TUERI, to look about) Publicans fore-stalling guests, or meeting them on the road, and begging their custom; also thieves or smugglers looking out to see that the coast is clear. Touting ken; the bar of a public house. A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

                                                                  [?]Fictograma.com » 🌐
                                                                  @fictograma@mastodon.social

                                                                  En los 80, en Curuzú, salía de la secundaria y de repente cruzaba la calle una voz:—¡Raúúúll! ¡Te amo, Raúl!Siempre desde lejos. Flaco, rápido, imposible de alcanzar.
                                                                  Nunca se acercó. Solo gritaba y desaparecía.
                                                                  fictograma.com/d/2941-desde-la

                                                                    [?]Fictograma.com » 🌐
                                                                    @fictograma@mastodon.social

                                                                    Querida Elisabeth: si las estrellas pudieran oírme, sabrían que tu nombre reemplazó al silencio del universo. Desde que llegaste, el mundo dejó de ser mundo. Si existe otra vida, te elegiré también allí. —William
                                                                    fictograma.com/d/2943-carta-de

                                                                      [?]Fictograma.com » 🌐
                                                                      @fictograma@mastodon.social

                                                                      Del recreo a la salida, todo parece cotidiano: charlas, abrazos, planes. Pero entre lo ordinario se cuela el peligro disfrazado. No es un cuento: es una advertencia sobre la vulnerabilidad de la infancia.
                                                                      fictograma.com/d/2944-las-cuat

                                                                        [?]Book dedications bot » 🤖 🌐
                                                                        @dedication_bot@stefanbohacek.online

                                                                        The Wedding by Dorothy West

                                                                        To the memory of my editor, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Though there was never such a mismatched pair in appearance, we were perfect partners.

                                                                        Alt...To the memory of my editor, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Though there was never such a mismatched pair in appearance, we were perfect partners.

                                                                          [?]Craig Constantine » 🌐
                                                                          @craig@constantine.name

                                                                          Specialization is for insects

                                                                          A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

                                                                          ~ Robert Heinlein

                                                                          slip:4a25.

                                                                            [?]Craig Constantine » 🌐
                                                                            @craig@constantine.name

                                                                            Our numbered days

                                                                            Here is a list of fearful things:
                                                                            The jaws of sharks, a vulture’s wings,
                                                                            The rabid bite of the dog’s of war,
                                                                            The voice of one who went before.
                                                                            But most of all the mirror’s gaze,
                                                                            which counts us out our numbered days.

                                                                            ~ Clive Barker

                                                                            slip:4a278.

                                                                              [?]palimpseste_bot » 🤖 🌐
                                                                              @palimpsestebot@mastodon.social

                                                                              April 9, 1816.
                                                                              Chap.XLI.—An Act to repeal the act, entitled “An act to provide additional revenues for defraying the expenses of government and maintaining the public credit, by laying duties on household furniture and on gold and silver watches[”]

                                                                              — United States Statutes at Large
                                                                              palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/6

                                                                                [?]KillBait » 🤖 🌐
                                                                                @killbait@mastodon.social

                                                                                Commonwealth Short Story Prize Winners Under Scrutiny for Possible AI Use

                                                                                📰 Original title: Literary Prizewinners Are Facing AI Allegations. It Feels Like the New Normal

                                                                                🤖 IA: It's clickbait ⚠️
                                                                                👥 Users: It's clickbait ⚠️

                                                                                View full AI summary: en.killbait.com/commonwealth-s

                                                                                  [?]KillBait News » 🤖 🌐
                                                                                  @killbait@mastodon.world

                                                                                  Commonwealth Short Story Prize Winners Under Scrutiny for Possible AI Use

                                                                                  📰 Original title: Literary Prizewinners Are Facing AI Allegations. It Feels Like the New Normal

                                                                                  🤖 IA: It's clickbait ⚠️
                                                                                  👥 Users: It's clickbait ⚠️

                                                                                  View full AI summary: en.killbait.com/commonwealth-s

                                                                                    [?](Older) RJT » 🌐
                                                                                    @one@subconscioussignature.earth

                                                                                    The Ontology of a Hummingbird

                                                                                    subspacewagon.systems/the-onto

                                                                                    @poetry
                                                                                    @writingcommunity

                                                                                      [?]Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga » 🌐
                                                                                      @siradramelekallighieri@mastodon.social

                                                                                      Hoy te soñé. Poema de Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga. Sus poemas en su voz

                                                                                        [?]Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga » 🌐
                                                                                        @siradramelekallighieri@mastodon.social

                                                                                        Warm Voice. Poem by Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga. His poems in his own voice.

                                                                                        [?]Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga » 🌐
                                                                                        @siradramelekallighieri@mastodon.social

                                                                                        Cálida voz. Poema de Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga. Sus poemas en su voz

                                                                                          [?]Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga » 🌐
                                                                                          @siradramelekallighieri@mastodon.social

                                                                                          Black Chest of Stolen Moons. Poem by Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga. His poems in his own voice.

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