Isaac Pickell

I'm so glad it pulled you from point a to point b — just reposted the poem with a few edits.

Thank you, Chris!

h/t @dansturn.bsky.social

I’m trying to quit smoking again, for the finances not for health or survival or actually for survival but the kind of survival where people tend to say it’s gonna be okay and they really mean it in their eyes, not like with cancer, how people tell people with cancer it’s gonna be okay and really what they’re trying to say is I will miss you when you’re gone

"Poetry isn't hard, it's actually the 'f**k it' escape button for the soul." !!

I mean come ON

A++

Professor Issac Pickell English 2450 11 February 2026 The F**k It Philosophy: How I Finally Learned to Love Poetry

Best essay ever??

We are all experiences — everything

At least it’s got one on the front for him!

Oh! And I should mention! It's coming from @blacklawrence.bsky.social on August 18!

A book cover. Two black birds of unknown species ponder a flash of light rising from horizon. One bird says "The Smallest Mistake We Call Human." The cover is lovely and everyone you know will like it.

PRESALE TIME!!

The best time to order small press books is during presale, when there are author incentives and awards buzz begins.

So order one, or order ten for all your friends. I mean look at that cover — who wouldn't want this on a coffee table.

blacklawrencepress.com/books/the-sm...

Topical—Prompts Inspired by Isaac Pickell — LeAnneHunt.com Sorry, everyone, for the long delay. Once I missed a couple of weeks due to the holidays and a new job, I just couldn’t get myself writing again, the blog or poetry. I have been in a bad headspace in ...

I love poetry prompts and am so pleased with the ones LeAnne Hunt — @ennael.bsky.social — came up with after reading my work.

Check these out and if you write through any of them, I hope you share!

Fuck! Fuck! Everything is so bad!! There’s an auction on dreams — Bonanza! Palooza! Extra- vaganza! Our one reverie sold for cents on the dollar. We got to be so good just to hold on to what we got — they have us rung like trees, growing half a centimeter a year and calling it progress. In the century it takes to see a difference, we’re all dead. Fuck. I just want to say something true that doesn’t hurt — palms and love handles say perfect ain’t the only way to stay alive. If I’m wrong, let me down easy.

Fuck!!!!

Or you can commit to the Hebrew and end up with "mavet mitzvah"... which really has a nice ring.

that's no reason not to use it!

Ars poetica The long history of the hyoid bone, the u-shaped hull of a chin that supports the rudderless tongue, suggests humans have sung for a million years. Or at least developed the physical ability to sing. But, scientists agree, who wouldn’t sing that could.

A little science for #smallpoemsunday

@tomsnarsky.bsky.social

I ask: where is our voice? where are the ghosts wearing our lips and our sound? so that we can do something about this amnesia calling: all ghosts who spit with fury at our fear of being awakened from this coma calling all ghosts. calling all ghosts …

Leslie Reese

[from “Upside Down Tapestry Mosaic History” printed by Detroit’s Broadside Press, 1987]

<<>>

#smallpoemsunday @tomsnarsky.bsky.social

We really, really do need those chances. Thank you, Angela.

Thank you, Audrey — I guess it's just one paw in front of the other.

Tapetum lucidum My dark circles get so bad you used to think there was something wrong with me other than everything you already knew was wrong with me. Sleeplessness, smoking, salt, and bittergrief years — I made this mask honestly. Raccoon eyes can turn a yawning dark delicate enough to hold, glowing blue and silver, or red as warning: a mirror behind the retina gives fugitive light a second chance to be seen. Scientists called it bright tapestry, this iridescence hiding in animal gaze. For bitter years — we weren’t built nocturnal, but we were designed for adaptation. I see midnight unfurling and forage on.

Wrote a poem about the bags under my eyes.

What are we but ciphers for our cities.

That's a great distinction, between dwelling and dwelling. I've been to the area twice, once during crane season. It does feel like somewhere worth missing.

Thank you, it means a lot.

Diaspore (n.) botanical: that which scatters from the source I would choose no state but like gardeners bend to water, what fails us we must set to mend

Essay on tragedy after Sandra Simonds it is good to have a lover. to move upstate, any state. to trust water will find its stream. a naked shoulder will give you perspective to watch stampede from a distance, bones cracked before death. in bed, dark cocoons the viscera of bent limbs, each trample seen for what it is: someone refusing to surrender their time. some shoulders have the right give. only some lovers gasp the same tenor. but everyone’s seen the lion king. indignity can be quiet or it can be endlessly paying attention.

An essay on tragedy

after @sandmansimonds.bsky.social