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What is Hive Being, and Why the Name?
You have likely heard talk of a hive mind, where one global mind finds more or less figurative expression in various local minds. Such talk is common enough in nature documentaries, especially ones concerning ants or bees, and in sci-fi programs. Take that notion, at least a loose version of it, and broaden its scope. That will be a decent first step in understanding the title I have chosen both for my Blog and for the first five-volume installment of my magnum opus Made For You and Me, a fragmentary collection of minimalist stanzas from 2016 to 2020.
In alignment with Spinoza (the 17th Century Rationalist to whom I devoted my doctoral studies), I view reality in its totality as a grand hive Being: all entities are but pulsating manifestations of the buckstopping fount of everything, an ultimate being we might call “God” or “Nature” (so long as, out of respect for the capital “G” and the capital “N,” we limit it neither to some anthropomorphic cloud father hurling lightning bolts nor to mere wilderness untouched by human smog). According to the hive-Being view (where reality is one lone superorganism, a monistic—and we might even say unividualist—conception I defend in both my creative and academic capacities), each non-foundational being (each being, that is, whose essence does not involve existence) is an utterly necessitated expression or eruption or exudation of this eternal source—each is, perhaps better put, a mode or manner of being, and so a focal point through which is disclosed, what classical theists sometimes call “being itself” (ipsum esse subsistens): the realness of the real, the being of whatever may be, the sheer activity of being, the very isness of whatever is. This Blog, which duplicates my Substack, throbs as but one among many literary unfurlings of this self-necessitated foundation, this supreme wellspring, of which we—like black holes and broken beliefs, like fractal ferns and flickering flames—are the inevitable stylings.
My Journey
I am an academic who found himself pressured into early retirement by the rising tides of cancel culture. The illiberal scourge of censoring, silencing, and shaming—although always with us throughout our evolution—reached a local peak around 2021. That was the turbulent year my creative pursuits, which the old left once encouraged as a healthy outlet for the stresses of a childhood steeped in poverty and illiteracy, drew the ire of the new safe-space left. A small cadre of self-proclaimed victims and their allies, several of whom continue to berate me years later under pseudonyms as see through as their sexual infatuation, sought to erase me and my heterodoxy. They found support from a wannabe-woke dean, covered in the grand inquisitor robes of our decadent modernity (full-body tattoos) and just itching to signal his commitment to protecting “vulnerable populations” from triggering material (even if just, as it was in my case, off-duty poems “unbecoming for someone calling himself a teacher”). Although I eventually won my due-process case with the help of The Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, I slunk away from a college that turned its back on protecting freedom of expression and from an institution increasingly intolerant of intellectual diversity.
The wrecking ball to my too-comfy office in the windowless ivory tower came with a silver lining. From the ashes of my professional aspirations rose a phoenix of increased freedom to fulfill the literary calling I have pursued for decades. Reputation concerns never stopped me, even within academia’s sterile halls of conformity. Indeed, my unapologetic defiance, which has long baffled friends and family, no doubt chummed even safe waters—almost as if I were asking for it all along—until the cancel shiver grew too frenzied to hold back its blind thrashings. But now, now I piston the most forbidden territories of human thought with no longer even a twinge of conscience. The newfound freedom means extra time to hone my craft. When not assisting special-needs communities (a day job far more rewarding than freeway-flyer drudgeries), I pursue my literary mission with Dionysian fervor.
Call for Co-Conspirators
This space, my digital sanctuary, showcases the fruits of my mission. Think of my posts, even those linking to my publications, as works in progress. I want your input, unflinching brutality included. Each post begins with an invitation to action: “Let’s workshop this [draft about x, y, z].” Your contributions, whether through public comments or my contact page, help hammer scraps of ore into polished blades fit for magazine publication.
Your input is valuable, even if you are neither a writer nor a reader of literature—twin disciplines dying by the cyber nanosecond. Sometimes—even if at the risk of uttering banalities—an outsider’s fresh vantage can pierce the veils of convention to reveal what insiders miss. It often takes an outsider to make us even think to question our ingrained presuppositions and attitudes. I stand by the hygienic value of contagion. That is one reason I advocate so strongly for intellectual diversity and freedom of expression. And that is also one reason I was so harrowed by the anti-diversity swell of cancel culture in academia (an institution that should be the utmost caretaker of such values)—harrowed especially insofar as that swell masqueraded under the gaslighting guise of “diversity”).
You will witness the breathing evolution of my writings over time. To track these changes, I label each revision by round: “ROUND 2,” ROUND 3,” and so forth. Each piece undergoes continuous refinement based on your feedback and my own revisitations. Sometimes changes will mar the work. That is the risk of creative tinkering as a finite creature. I hope you will alert me to missteps. After many semesters of university writing workshops, one rule has impressed itself upon me: when someone senses a flaw, something almost always needs to change—even if, yes, the proposed solution misses the mark (which often it does). From a quick look into the archives, accessible here, you can see how much I have benefited from your feedback so far.
My Hope
Sharing drafts can be daunting. But showing you the ravaged and unperfumed real deal unfiltered by makeup (stuttering starts and falsities, awkward line breaks and clumsy word choices, grammatical errors and misspellings)—that not only makes my work more relatable, but helps me refine things through your input. I hope the unfiltered look at the raw process of fumbling, rather than just the polished product, also helps other writers develop their craft. Imperfect works often instruct more than perfect ones: whereas the perfect ones tend to have a grace by which they slip inside us without activating our scrutiny, the imperfect ones—especially the near perfect ones—show us glaringly what not to do.
People laugh at me, seeing—in my tilting at the windmills of literary excellence—a Don Quixote clunking around in Arthurian armor in a post-knight era. I am not naïve. I am well aware of the diminishing ability to read, let alone well: slowly and deeply, with gratitude. I am also aware that my style, which often nests subpoints within larger points, never waters down virtuosity for the sake of mass appeal. I watch readers stumble over my sentences, unable to unlock even just the music of the envelope let alone the semantic meat within, which—given my tendency to flashlight through the darker facets of human nature (the addicts, the miscreants, the abusers among us)—only adds an additional alienating layer of difficulty). Beholding these depressive scenes of even supportive family members getting bucked off my syntactic bronco makes me feel like a dinosaur who should get a hint and, if not succumb to the brain rot of skibidi-toilet speak, just hang himself already. Even though the decline in linguistic background and grammatical voltage makes my compositions seem quixotic in a world binging Netflix and TikTok, I persist—raging against the dying of the light—by some internal compulsion to celebrate the richness of language and thought.
My hope is that, despite social media’s unparalleled power to farm our attention, people never forget the unique power of writing. Beyond unveiling hypocrisy, teasing out complex implications, and detailing the commonalities between even the most alien phenomena, writing offers something we need today—trapped in agoraphobic cyber bubbles only thickened by the Lyme dangers of forests and the COVID dangers of cities—perhaps more than ever. Granting us rich access to the first-person perspectives of others (to how things feel to them), writing serves as one of humanity’s best tools for combating loneliness. It allows us to linger, broadly and deeply and at high resolution, within the inner lives of others in a way that other arts can only suggest.
What to Expect
My work spans a broad spectrum: from metaphysical discourses on free will and determinism and the ontology of holes to the ephemera of western culture (whether the childhood impacts of the hypersexual mono-image of black woman as squirting twerkers or Terrence Howard’s sham revolution of mathematics). Some tight and minimal, others free-flowing sprawls; some heady and abstract, others emotional and imagistic—my inkwell musings, which often blend scholarly rigor with a dark humor from both high and low culture, aim to capture the visceral intensity of our personal and social and ultimately existential predicaments.
By no means can I deny that drug abuse, sexual assault, and the tales of the broken and the damned loom large in the tag cloud of my work. My writing will never be a paradise of easy truths and comforting lies. It will challenge you, provoke you, and at times even repulse you. I offer no apologies for the monsters I unleash. They are as much a part of us, at long root scared rodent mammals scurrying in the shadows of dinosaurs, as our noblest aspirations.
But make no mistake. It is not all downer darkness. The archives are my receipts. You will find pieces exploring the pursuit of authenticity in a media-saturated world, the search for meaning in an indifferent cosmos, and the celebration of beauty in both the sublime and the profane. I locate much of my inspiration, in fact, in novelists like Dostoevsky and poets like Ted Kooser—writers unafraid to pursue moral agendas or risk Hallmark sentimentality in an age that often sneers at sincerity.
Be they satirical dissections of modern social dynamics or poignant poems about addiction or academic articles on moral responsibility, my goal is to provoke thought, evoke emotion, and foster meaningful dialogue. Fear has not and will not stop me from challenging humanity’s fundamental taboos (like bestiality and cannibalism) or self-reflecting into the dark chaos of the subconscious, even if that means exposing the Jungian shadows—the inner Goebbels—lurking within us all!
Expect posts each day, no day missed. Donations are welcome, but I impose no paywall: it feels wrong to charge for art, especially given our date with obliteration. Feel free to explore what amounts to, at the time of writing this, close to a thousand pieces of poetry and prose here. That should give you a sense of what awaits.
Join me—specula holstered—on this literary odyssey into the public and private nooks of the hive Being. Let us navigate the labyrinth of creation together, confronting our demons and even slaying our darlings if we must. Let us dance on the razor’s edge between the sublime and the profane in pursuit of an elusive literary perfection never to be confused—as it has been confused in our declining civilization—with the pursuit of popularity or likeability over truth.
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Posts
Re: Campus Warrior Apologetics
"Re: Campus Warrior Apologetics" is a provocative critique of identity-based rhetoric and its implications for intellectual discourse, particularly in academic and cultural spaces. The poem confronts the weaponization of identity politics as a means of silencing dissent and enforcing ideological conformity, using stark imagery and biting satire to underscore its points. The speaker interrogates the logical inconsistencies and moral contradictions in arguments that insist only those within a specific identity group can speak about or represent that group’s experiences, framing such arguments as both reductive and authoritarian.
The poem’s opening draws attention to the hyperbolic and performative nature of "campus-groomed mantras," juxtaposing their jugular-vein sincerity with the grotesque metaphor of a trafficked child whose trauma has been co-opted for rhetorical impact. This unsettling comparison highlights the exploitative nature of such rhetoric, where sincerity is less a marker of truth than a weaponized display of emotional intensity. The repeated challenges—“What right do you have…?”—expose the speaker's frustration with the self-reinforcing logic of these arguments, where identity becomes the sole determinant of intellectual authority.
By invoking examples such as trans experiences, racial dynamics, and the “audacity” of questioning certain narratives, the poem critiques the underlying axiom that "only those within a group can speak for or about that group." The speaker dismantles this premise with a pointed reductio ad absurdum: if taken to its logical extreme, even speaking about animals or non-human subjects would be prohibited unless one is part of those groups. This absurdity is intended to illustrate how such arguments collapse under scrutiny, revealing their limitations as tools for meaningful dialogue.
The poem then shifts to consider a more nuanced version of the identitarian creed: that only historically disenfranchised voices are entitled to speak across divides. While this refinement acknowledges systemic inequities, the speaker argues that it still fails to account for the complexity of human experience and the risks of reducing individuals to representatives of their demographic categories. Furthermore, the speaker critiques the way this refined creed perpetuates a power dynamic rooted in victimhood, where suffering becomes a form of currency wielded to silence opposing views.
A particularly scathing moment emerges when the poem examines how even this adjusted framework falters under its own contradictions. The speaker highlights the hypersensitivity and performative allyship that amplifies certain voices while silencing others, particularly within racial hierarchies. The invocation of black voices as “untouchable in their sanctified suffering” underscores the speaker’s concern that identity politics, in its extreme forms, can devolve into a hierarchical system where oppression is wielded as a form of dominance.
Ultimately, "Re: Campus Warrior Apologetics" critiques the erosion of free discourse under the weight of identity-driven ideologies. The poem warns against the dangers of elevating identity over universal principles of reason and dialogue, arguing that such an approach fosters division rather than understanding. By stripping these ideologies to their “purest form,” the speaker exposes the potential for them to become tools of ideological control rather than pathways to equity and justice.
identity politics, campus rhetoric, intellectual discourse, free speech, oppression hierarchy, cultural critique, ideological conformity, identity-based arguments, performative allyship, racial dynamics, intersectionality, logical fallacies, weaponized victimhood.
Harris and Klebold
“Harris and Klebold” examines the nihilistic psyche of the perpetrators of the Columbine massacre, situating their violence within the framework of "demon-merger possession"—a metaphorical concept describing the dissolution of individual will into a collective malevolent force. The poem identifies a critical moment of reckoning for such individuals, when their homicidal frenzy confronts an immutable truth: the world persists despite their efforts to plunge it into darkness. This existential futility, described as a "truism," serves as a mirror to the perpetrators' own internal chaos, forcing them to grapple with the limitations of their destructive power.
The poem’s opening lines describe the perpetrators’ state of mind as being in the "homicidal throes," a phrase that suggests not merely an act of violence but a possession-like loss of agency, wherein their identities are subsumed by the urge to merge with a demonic entity or ideology. This framing highlights the paradoxical desire to annihilate the world while simultaneously asserting their own significance. The use of "demon-merger" invokes both a literal and figurative possession, suggesting their actions were driven by a confluence of personal rage and societal alienation, channeling these forces into a destructive yet ultimately futile climax.
The poem’s central insight emerges in the acknowledgment of the world's resilience: "the result will never be / as dark as you intend it to be." This realization undercuts the perpetrators' intent, revealing the inherent limits of their actions. By attempting to impose their darkness on the world, they are inevitably met with the failure of their ultimate goal—obliteration. The futility of this endeavor becomes an unbearable weight, one that "almost inevitably spells suicide." The poem refrains from moralizing, instead probing the psychological and existential tensions that lead to such acts, suggesting that the realization of this futility contributes to the suicidal impulses that often accompany mass violence.
By framing this reckoning as a "move," the poem subtly critiques the perpetrators' sense of agency and strategy, positioning their ultimate act of self-destruction as a response to their inability to achieve the radical negation they desire. The use of "move" also evokes a chess-like calculation, underscoring the cold logic that underpins their actions while simultaneously highlighting its inherent failure to account for the enduring complexity of the world they seek to destroy.
In essence, "Harris and Klebold" functions as a meditation on the intersection of nihilism, violence, and existential futility. It presents a chilling portrait of individuals consumed by their desire for annihilation yet thwarted by the world’s inherent persistence, exposing the tragic irony at the heart of such acts: the impossibility of achieving total darkness in a world that continues to turn.
Harris and Klebold, nihilism, mass violence, existential futility, demon-merger possession, homicidal throes, societal alienation, psychological reckoning, suicidal impulses, destruction limits, Columbine massacre.
Artistic Ambition Gone Awry
"Artistic Ambition Gone Awry" delves into the intersection of legal constraints, self-defense, and creative expression, critiquing the restrictive nature of "duty-to-retreat" laws in self-defense scenarios. The poem opens with the premise of a state that not only mandates retreat over confrontation but also prohibits the use of defensive booby traps—even in cases of repeat burglaries. This framing suggests a tension between self-protection and legal boundaries, foregrounding the struggle to defend one’s space within restrictive guidelines. The mention of “window repeats” underlines the frustration of enduring recurring invasions while being legally constrained from proactive measures, hinting at the futility experienced by those who seek to protect their homes under such laws.
The poem’s central image—the “tripwire deer bow” intended for a “window-entering zombie dummy”—conveys the poet’s ironic twist on this predicament by suggesting that a makeshift defense could be passed off as an art installation. The shift toward "scripts, footage, receipts, grant requests" humorously implies that the speaker is preparing evidence to justify a hypothetical booby trap under the guise of an iPhone horror project. This blend of satire and defiance mocks the legal stipulations, framing them as obstacles that inspire a subversive creativity. By turning self-defense into a "starring role" in an artistic project, the speaker transforms a private act of protection into a public performance—one that pokes at the irony of seeking grants and producing receipts to "validate" a safety measure.
The poem also reflects on the blurred lines between artistic ambition and defensive action. Presenting a "zombie dummy" as the target of a trap implies a theatrical detachment from reality, casting the home invader as a stand-in for imaginary threats. This device speaks to a deeper critique: the laws governing self-defense can force individuals to perform elaborate justifications for basic protective actions. The choice of a “zombie dummy” as the supposed target for the booby trap hints at the absurdity of the situation, as if the speaker must concoct an outlandish narrative just to protect their home within legal bounds.
Overall, "Artistic Ambition Gone Awry" is a satire on the convoluted hoops individuals must jump through to secure their safety in a highly regulated environment. It challenges the reader to question the limitations placed on self-defense and the often absurd lengths one must go to in order to satisfy legal requirements. By framing self-defense as an artistic endeavor, the poem underscores the ironies of bureaucratic restrictions, offering a humorous yet biting commentary on the barriers to personal security.
duty-to-retreat, self-defense laws, artistic satire, legal restrictions, booby traps, creative self-protection, personal security, bureaucratic irony, self-defense critique, personal protection
Partners in Excavation
"Partners in Excavation" invites a profound reflection on the nature of competition, suggesting that the real purpose of a physical match extends beyond the drive to win over an opponent. Rather than simply viewing his adversary as a "meat-and-bone opponent," the speaker considers him as an "occasion to learn"—a partner in the exploration of personal limits. This reframing shifts the confrontation from an external struggle to an internal excavation of one's own capabilities, resilience, and endurance. The poem’s title, Partners in Excavation, reinforces this theme of self-discovery through mutual struggle, suggesting that both participants in a match play essential roles in revealing deeper facets of themselves, as though they are digging through the layers of their own psychological and physical endurance.
The poem’s central line, "the real opponent being one's own limits," captures a philosophical stance often associated with martial arts and endurance sports, where the goal is not simply to defeat another person but to transcend personal boundaries. The phrase "one’s own limits" emphasizes that competition is a pathway to understanding and potentially expanding those limits. This outlook reframes the adversary not as an antagonist but as a partner who catalyzes growth, offering a mirror through which one confronts and overcomes inner fears and weaknesses. The line "makes matches so exciting" conveys the thrill of such a confrontation, underscoring that the true exhilaration of competition is found in testing oneself rather than solely in claiming victory over another.
The final image of being "canvas-bound / in drool" evokes both the physicality and vulnerability of a match, suggesting that without this shift in perspective—without recognizing the opponent as a collaborator in personal growth—defeat would come swiftly. Here, the "canvas" symbolizes not only the literal floor but also the metaphorical collapse of resilience in the absence of a deeper purpose. To be "canvas-bound" implies a loss of self-possession, a surrender that transcends physical defeat and suggests a psychological failure to embrace the full opportunity presented by competition. This outcome underscores the poem’s central theme: the idea that strength lies not in overpowering another but in fully embracing the challenge as a means of self-exploration.
In essence, "Partners in Excavation" challenges the reader to view competition as a shared endeavor toward self-knowledge. Through the lens of a single match, the poem reveals how an opponent can serve as a mirror reflecting our own potential and limitations. By redefining the goal of competition as the testing of personal boundaries, the poem offers a vision of victory that is measured not by dominance over another but by the depth of understanding achieved through mutual struggle.
competition, self-discovery, resilience, personal limits, mutual struggle, martial arts philosophy, inner strength, psychological growth, opponent as partner, personal boundaries, self-exploration, introspective competition
You Are Modes of the Stuff If Made Solely from the Stuff
In You Are Modes of the Stuff If Made Solely from the Stuff, the poem grapples with the nature of consciousness, detachment, and the limits of human perception in accessing the “base code” of reality. The poem opens with the familiar experience of meditation, described as “that silent nook of detachment beneath / the noisy whitewater of thoughts,” which evokes the mental discipline of watching one’s thoughts pass by without attachment. The poem moves toward the realization that, even at the deepest states of meditative detachment—when we are freed from the immediacy of thought and breath—our proximity to “reality’s base code” or “the essence” remains fundamentally unchanged. This meditation mirrors the ontological question of whether introspective practices or transcendental states genuinely bring us closer to an ultimate truth or whether they merely deepen an illusion of proximity to an unknowable origin.
The line “whether a Sims character or not” serves as a modern analogy, subtly implying that we may be no closer to the “base code” of existence than a character in a video game is to the underlying computer code that defines its world. This comparison highlights the potentially insurmountable separation between lived experience and the foundational mechanisms governing that experience. Despite the mystic’s promise of nearing the essence through death or enlightenment, the poem asserts that such a journey is inherently flawed. This skepticism finds expression in the line “nearer to God at death,” challenging conventional religious or mystical beliefs that death grants access to a divine or ultimate truth.
In the poem’s second stanza, the philosophical quandary deepens. The assertion that “If base-code reality, the essence, God (whatever) / is the sole wellspring of everything” speaks to the concept of monism, where all phenomena are expressions of a single underlying substance or reality. Here, the poet makes a case for the inevitable intimacy with this essence, likening all beings to “modes” or expressions of this “wellspring.” In a clever analogy, the poem likens human proximity to the base reality as akin to “the brown of the walnut” being “as near as the brown would be if its brown were / ultimately the authorship of the walnut alone.” This metaphor of color to object, part to whole, suggests that our existence is inseparably embedded within the base code, yet without any special awareness or autonomy that would allow us to "know" it directly.
The poem’s philosophical argument thus echoes Spinozan thought, where individual entities are “modes” or expressions of a singular substance. Here, humans and all sentient beings are as close to the essence as they could be—constituted by it and unable to separate from it. This closeness is paradoxical, suggesting both intimate union and an absolute limit to perception: as the walnut’s brown cannot exist independently of the walnut itself, neither can we truly access the nature of the essence from which we spring. The poem contends that any attempt to do so would be self-defeating, as we would dissolve into the essence itself rather than achieving conscious proximity to it.
Ultimately, the poem challenges the pursuit of transcendence or “getting closer” to an absolute truth. Instead, it posits that we are eternally entangled with it, structurally inseparable yet incapable of knowing it on its terms. You Are Modes of the Stuff If Made Solely from the Stuff thus becomes a meditation on the limitations of self-awareness, inviting readers to confront the paradox of being inescapably intertwined with something they can never fully comprehend.
consciousness, reality's base code, monism, meditation, mysticism, proximity to essence, Spinozan thought, self-awareness limitations, philosophical paradox, inseparability
"Stoon of Sikernesse" in Troilus and Criseyde
In "‘Stoon of Sikernesse’" in Troilus and Criseyde,” the poem reflects on Chaucer's nuanced portrayal of earthly love and the inherent fragility of human attachment. The titular “Stoon of Sikernesse” refers to an imagined anchor of certainty and fidelity, yet in the poem, love appears as a paradox: an all-consuming, even maddening force that is simultaneously transient and unreliable. This reference aligns with the idea in Troilus and Criseyde of love as an overwhelming force, compelling Troilus to pursue Criseyde despite the risks to his heart and sense of self. The imagery here underscores the irrational, almost tragic, insistence on pursuing what is fleeting—a lover who, by nature, is changeable, mortal, and “prone to sicken and die.”
The poem juxtaposes this transient love with loftier, more timeless causes. The notion of “causes that outspan us” points to ideals like honor, duty, or divine pursuits—endeavors that one might expect to be worthier of devotion than an ephemeral romance. However, as the speaker notes, even these elevated causes are subject to the ravages of time and decay. This duality embodies Chaucer's medieval worldview, wherein the temporary nature of earthly pursuits is seen as a flaw or a limitation, one that drives the allure of “anti-samsara heaven,” a conceptual escape from the cycle of worldly suffering and decay.
The reference to “anti-samsara heaven” hints at a longing for spiritual transcendence as an antidote to the sorrows of worldly attachments, mirroring the medieval Christian ethos of striving for heavenly salvation as a release from the suffering and impermanence of earthly life. Just as Chaucer uses Troilus’s plight to explore the folly of seeking permanence in the impermanent, this piece evokes the instability of even the most intense, seemingly significant attachments and goals in human life. Ultimately, the poem resonates with Chaucer’s insight that all earthly pursuits, no matter how noble or profound, are vulnerable to change and loss, prompting a yearning for something beyond the samsaric cycle of attachment and suffering.
Chaucer, Troilus and Criseyde, earthly love, impermanence, samsara, spiritual transcendence, medieval worldview, mortality, attachment, fleeting devotion
A-1 Barber
“A-1 Barber” serves as an evocative journey through memory, using the sights, sounds, smells, and cultural nuances of a barbershop to explore themes of masculinity, nostalgia, and identity. This prose poem intertwines detailed sensory recollection with meditative introspection, juxtaposing the narrator’s present sense of displacement with a vivid immersion in a cherished past, one where the barbershop—A-1 Barber—is as much a social hub as it is a site of self-refinement. The narrator’s recall is triggered by a mall directory photograph, which plunges him back into a richly textured world of youthful familiarity and cultural exchange.
The poem grounds the reader in a world of 90s hip hop, barbershop masculinity, and young adulthood. Through descriptions like “minty lubrication spray,” “citrusy clove of bay rum,” and “gourmand envelope of bourbon chicken,” the narrator revisits the barber’s chair as an almost sacred space, where physical appearance is refined but where culture, personal history, and camaraderie coalesce. Each detail serves a dual purpose: grounding the reader in the sensory while linking those elements to emotions, attitudes, and community. A-1 Barber is not just a place for haircuts but a place that shapes his identity, even informing his nascent interests in philosophy and alternative lifestyles as encouraged by his barber, Rafa, who subtly guides him toward his intellectual pursuits.
Rafa, a vegan barber with thin dreads, emerges as a pivotal figure, offering a calm, nontraditional perspective in contrast to the more stereotypically "tough" barbers around him. Unlike the shop's loud debates, Rafa embodies tranquility, inspiring the narrator’s gradual move toward an intellectual path marked by introspection rather than bravado. Rafa’s understated encouragement of the narrator’s “bohemian earth tones” and philosophical pursuits creates a sense of mentorship that departs from the hypermasculine and often aggressive attitudes around them. This tension between Rafa’s subdued guidance and the assertive masculinity of the other barbers highlights the narrator’s inner conflict and growing self-awareness, as he negotiates his own identity within and outside of the stereotyped norms of his cultural context.
The poem employs a layered structure, with shifts between the narrator's present isolation and his immersion in the past. Present-day feelings of disconnection—“reek wafting up even through thermals and jeans”—contrast with the warmth and vibrancy of his A-1 Barber memories, where he finds a sense of belonging. This juxtaposition underscores the loss of a stable masculine identity in his current life. It is in the past, at the barbershop, where he feels supported by a collective masculine presence, especially when facing the complexities of sex, relationships, and adulthood. The advice from the barbers, to “keep it wrapped up” after passionate encouragement to “go-get-em,” hints at a collective wisdom they wish they had heeded in their youth, a regret disguised as advice but revealing deeper vulnerabilities.
“A-1 Barber” closes on the barbers' role as inadvertent father figures, presenting both wisdom and contradictions in their guidance. In this way, the barbershop becomes a social institution where rites of passage are imparted in pragmatic, often unvarnished terms, fostering a kind of masculine intimacy rarely acknowledged in more formal spaces. The narrator’s return to these memories through the mall directory photo thus becomes more than nostalgic recall; it is a reflection on the complexities of growing up, the lessons he absorbed (and the lives forever altered) within the faded neon corridors of A-1 Barber.
barbershop nostalgia, masculinity, identity, mentorship, 90s hip hop culture, sensory memory, community, father figures, philosophy, cultural heritage
Risk Alienation
"Risk Alienation" explores the tension between creating art that is accessible and relatable versus art that risks alienation by confronting audiences with unsettling or challenging truths. The poem criticizes the tendency to prioritize “accessibility” as an end goal in art, capturing this phenomenon with the ironic indie-bio phrase “odd yet relatable.” This phrase, often used to describe quirky but ultimately safe and appealing works, suggests a conformist expectation for art to entertain without deeply disturbing or challenging prevailing social norms. By invoking the language of indie culture, the poem reveals how even non-mainstream art forms are susceptible to pressures to conform to audience expectations of relatability and familiarity, which can, in turn, dilute the potential for authentic expression.
The poem’s pivot to the concept of “trusting your gut” as another seemingly benign, even admirable ideal exposes a deeper critique of popular wisdom. This call to instinct, which in contemporary culture is often romanticized as authentic or “real,” is questioned by the poem, which provides a historical example of collective gut instinct reinforcing bigotry—the reflexive aversion to interracial swimming pools. This example underscores that instincts and gut feelings are shaped by social conditioning and can reflect rather than transcend cultural biases. The use of “vomit-emoji toxic” to describe past attitudes emphasizes how online language has simplified complex realities, often reducing critical discussions of prejudice to meme-able expressions that lose their nuance in the digital lexicon.
The poem’s juxtaposition between art’s supposed need to be “accessible” and the problematic guidance of gut instinct suggests that the drive for relatability in art may reinforce preexisting social prejudices rather than challenge them. Art that risks alienation, the poem implies, is art that refuses to cater to superficial likability and instead probes the darker, often hidden prejudices within society. By doing so, it emphasizes the idea that art has a transformative potential precisely when it resists the demand for relatability and confronts the audience with their biases, discomforts, and blind spots. "Risk Alienation" therefore suggests that genuine artistic courage lies in refusing to temper the difficult truths in favor of comfort, pointing to the enduring role of art as a medium that unsettles and reconfigures rather than merely entertains.
accessible art, relatability, artistic integrity, indie art, social conformity, cultural critique, gut instinct, audience expectations, challenging art, transformative art, biases in art, cultural prejudice
Kooser
"Kooser" critiques a prescriptive approach to poetry championed by poet Ted Kooser, who argues that the poet's use of the “I” should only reflect true experiences, and not fictional or imaginative projections. This notion reflects a broader trend, particularly in contemporary literary and cultural discourse, that restricts authors from exploring identities or traumas they have not personally experienced, with an emphasis on authenticity tied to firsthand experience. By aligning Kooser’s rule with the recent societal expectation that white authors write only white characters, the poem argues that such constraints create insularity and diminish empathy by narrowly limiting imaginative reach. Kooser’s rule, intended to safeguard readers’ emotions from “undeserving” poets, is depicted here as building restrictive “walls” that prevent a deeper engagement with the full spectrum of human experience and empathy. This limitation reflects a prevailing trend in our era where “trauma must be time-stamped and notarized,” as if the legitimacy of one’s empathy or insight were contingent on personal history and verifiable experience.
By labeling Kooser a “corn-belt poet” and invoking the imagery of “parochialism,” the poem suggests that his rule is grounded in a provincialism that may resonate within certain cultural or geographical contexts but is out of step with the universalizing power of art. The poet’s skepticism of this position implies that true empathy arises not from “laureate walls” confining poets to their lived experiences but from a freedom to traverse the spectrum of identities, emotions, and traumas through the poetic “I.” Ultimately, "Kooser" serves as a critical meditation on the current literary landscape, where notions of authenticity, identity, and authorship risk constraining creative expression and reducing the power of empathy to mere biographical constraints.
poetic authenticity, empathy in art, Ted Kooser critique, literary restrictions, identity and authorship, trauma representation, parochialism in poetry, imaginative expression, contemporary literary trends, restrictive poetics
Boxing Academy Oracle
“Boxing Academy Oracle" explores the evolution of a seasoned coach, renowned for his exacting, often brutal approach to discipline, and the subtle transformation that occurs over time as his style shifts from severity to mysticism. In the first few lines, the coach’s reputation is immediately established: he is “legendary over decades / for mortifying knit-pickery,” a figure whose intensity and relentless critique served as both a formative and intimidating presence for his trainees. This “mortifying knit-pickery” is no mere gruffness but a calculated attempt to “toughen them up,” suggesting an approach rooted in traditional values where resilience is built through exposure to rigor, even harshness. The coach’s influence, which spans decades, is portrayed as almost mythical, elevating his persona to one of legendary, near-unapproachable authority in the gym.
As the poem progresses, however, this ironclad methodology begins to erode. The poem notes that his once “iron fist dwindled,” and rather than attributing this to any newfound wisdom or gentleness, the poem attributes it to “fatigue.” This shift underlines the human toll of time, implying that age—rather than philosophical change—has softened his approach. Yet, even as his energy fades, the coach’s role transforms rather than diminishes. In his waning years, he becomes a “koan machine,” dispensing cryptic wisdom more akin to Zen riddles than structured instruction. This transformation evokes the journey from a hands-on, methodical approach to one that is more abstract, symbolic, and enigmatic. In this capacity, he becomes an oracle, an almost prophetic figure, whose words are valued not for their literal guidance but for the mental space they create for his trainees to ponder their own paths.
The poem then contrasts this shift in the coach’s demeanor with the attitude of his trainees, who now enjoy what the poem calls a “no-stakes reprieve.” The coach’s “ungraspable oration” provides a safe distance from the rigors of critique, allowing them to engage with his words as a form of detached amusement rather than as a source of scrutiny or pressure. By referring to his instructions as “koans,” the poem places the coach’s once hard-edged persona in the context of Zen teachings, where paradoxes and ambiguities encourage introspection rather than straightforward compliance. The trainees, in their youthful vigor, egg him on, not out of genuine engagement but for the relief from the intense standards he once imposed. There is irony here: his former lessons required physical and mental rigor, but his current teachings provide a sense of freedom from those expectations, allowing the trainees to revel in his musings without the pressure to live up to the discipline he once demanded.
Ultimately, "Boxing Academy Oracle" reflects on the evolution of mentorship and authority over time. The poem portrays the shifting dynamics between mentor and mentee, highlighting how time transforms both the teacher’s message and the students’ reception of it. As the coach ages, his words no longer carry the weight of strict instruction but serve instead as a kind of open-ended wisdom, reflective of his own acceptance of the limitations of time and human effort. The trainees’ response to this transformation speaks to the broader notion of how we, as a culture, revere but also re-contextualize the wisdom of our predecessors, particularly as they transition from roles of active guidance to figures of contemplative reflection. In a setting as intense as a boxing academy, where physical prowess and mental toughness are typically valued above introspection, the poem presents a nuanced portrait of aging, resilience, and the delicate dance between authority and vulnerability as one approaches the inevitabilities of human frailty.
boxing coach, mentorship, age and wisdom, cryptic wisdom, toughness, fatigue, discipline, authority, transformation, enigmatic teachings, student-coach relationship, Zen koans
Crisis Center
“Crisis Center” explores the fractured attention and isolation of someone in psychological crisis, juxtaposing her fleeting connection to the external world with the indifferent clinical processes around her. The poem opens with her “pupils shiver[ing] doorward,” suggesting an initial, almost reflexive reach toward the presence of another person as the man enters, presumably a mental health professional. Her reaction hints at a desire for connection, but this potential relief quickly dissolves, displaced by her intense “chest-heaving distress.” This distress, physically manifesting in her breathing, conveys the depth of her emotional pain, suggesting a suffocating anxiety or despair that leaves little room for coherent thought or stable connection to her surroundings.
However, as her attention snaps back into herself—her gaze decoupling to a “thousand yards, infinity’s blank”—she regresses to a detached, inward state. The phrase “thousand yards” evokes the concept of the “thousand-yard stare,” associated with trauma and emotional dissociation, where one seems to look through their immediate environment rather than engaging with it. This visual distancing, often indicative of severe mental strain, underscores her sense of alienation and separation from reality, which may result from the repetitive or numbing effect of clinical interventions that lack true personal connection.
The man’s action—flipping through her chart—is imbued with a “terrible automaticity,” a detachment that mirrors her own blankness. This clinical ritual, devoid of empathy or deeper engagement, only reinforces her isolation. By focusing on the physicality of the gesture, the poem highlights the unfeeling routines that can pervade mental health care settings, where patient interactions risk becoming mechanical. Through this brief moment, the poem critiques how, in crisis contexts, professional detachment and procedural rigor can unintentionally contribute to patients’ sense of invisibility and detachment from humanity.
Ultimately, “Crisis Center” is a poignant portrayal of the disconnect between those in emotional turmoil and the often impersonal systems meant to aid them. The patient’s initial reach toward connection—quickly aborted by her automatic withdrawal into “infinity’s blank”—and the professional’s procedural response expose the hollow space between crisis and care, where both patient and caregiver remain isolated within their roles. In capturing this tragic misalignment, the poem questions the adequacy of institutionalized responses to deeply personal suffering, suggesting a need for more human-centered care.
crisis center, mental health, emotional detachment, clinical indifference, psychological distress, thousand-yard stare, trauma, healthcare critique, patient-caregiver disconnect, human-centered care
A Drowned Thing Resurfaced
“A Drowned Thing Resurfaced” delves into the complexities of vulnerability and the inadvertent power of invisibility, exploring how physical “ugliness” can paradoxically grant access to hidden truths. The poem’s opening lines reveal a figure who, perceived as powerless, finds herself in a unique position—people around her are unguarded, freely sharing their “secrets” and “eureka insights” without the usual self-censorship. Her perceived lack of influence or significance creates a space where others, likely unconsciously, reveal the raw, unfiltered thoughts they might otherwise guard. This position renders her a confidante by default, not by design, as though her perceived lack of social capital provides a metaphorical “lock-and-key diary” quality—she becomes a repository for truths rarely spoken aloud.
This dynamic positions her presence as more meaningful than any formalized therapy session. Unlike a therapist who consciously guides conversations, she receives others’ revelations in an unstructured, “free association” manner, where spontaneous, deeply personal disclosures flow unimpeded. The term “hemorrhaging out” implies an overwhelming, almost involuntary release of inner content, underscoring the often uncontrolled nature of these revelations. This unintentional intimacy hints at the idea that, ironically, her “ugliness” makes her more attuned to the genuine, raw aspects of others’ personalities, allowing her to occupy a crucial, if unacknowledged, role within her social landscape.
Yet, the poem subtly gestures at the cost of this position. The phrase “almost as much as would / remembering she is there” suggests a tension between her role as a vessel for others’ thoughts and the near-erasure of her own presence. Her “ugliness” allows others to be raw and honest, yet it also makes her virtually invisible in the process. This dynamic underlines a paradox of human interaction: those deemed unthreatening or insignificant by societal standards often end up shouldering the emotional weight of others’ vulnerabilities, existing within a space where they are both essential and disregarded.
Ultimately, “A Drowned Thing Resurfaced” speaks to the unique role of the invisible observer, drawing attention to how societal judgments about appearance can inadvertently forge a channel for honest communication. The poem critiques how societal judgments around beauty affect self-perception and interpersonal dynamics, questioning what is lost when people are both drawn to and blind to someone’s presence. In capturing the transformative potential of “ugliness,” the poem suggests that value can emerge from invisibility, granting access to unguarded, authentic human moments.
invisibility, societal judgments, vulnerability, physical appearance, human interaction, lock-and-key diary, emotional weight, unguarded communication, authenticity, unfiltered thoughts
Full-Bodied Crookedness
Full-Bodied Crookedness delves into the psychological and physical ramifications of the narrator's obsessive self-perception, capturing the relentless pursuit of bodily symmetry and the attendant sense of futility. The poem addresses themes of body dysmorphia, anxiety, and the intersection between the physical and existential, offering a layered exploration of self-image that spirals from an early awareness of physical imperfection into a broader, all-encompassing fixation.
The narrator's awareness of his physical "crookedness" begins early in life, specifically with his nose. The metaphorical comparison between his nostrils' asymmetry and "Luke and Jabba"—characters symbolizing the moral and physical extremes in Star Wars—immediately sets the tone for the poem. This exaggerated contrast between good and evil, hero and grotesque villain, symbolizes the narrator’s perception of his own bodily imbalance. His desire to "reset the set point" through American-style overcompensation reflects a cultural critique of perfectionism and the extremes one is willing to pursue in the face of perceived inadequacy.
The poem moves from local observations about the nose to a more militaristic obsession with other features, as the narrator scrutinizes his face with increasing intensity. Weed enhances his paranoia, opening him to a deeper "panoptic facial horror." The imagery of his face collapsing "like a November jack-o-lantern" suggests the fragility of his self-perception, as if his identity, like a decaying pumpkin, is subject to irreversible forces of decay and deformation. His bodily interventions—stretching his mandible, warping his jaw—become ritualistic, yet they never succeed, as the face "oozed back home," an apt metaphor for the inescapability of one's essential physical reality.
As the narrative continues, this obsessive compulsion expands beyond the face. The "imperialism" of his interventions broadens to include his hairline, where he begins shaving away parts of his scalp in the hopes of masking the crookedness. The poem’s use of terms like "imperialism" and "campaign" evokes a military strategy of control, underscoring the narrator’s self-destructive attempts to conquer his own body. Yet these interventions only worsen the problem, revealing a deeper tension between perceived self-improvement and the worsening consequences of obsessive control.
The moment of realization on the carpet, when the narrator notices his legs are unequal, marks a turning point where the body’s crookedness infects the core of his being. His compensatory behavior of standing with one foot on a Bible—symbolizing the weight of moral and existential struggle—speaks to the spiritual and psychological burden that accompanies his physical preoccupation. His overcorrection becomes metaphysical, suggesting that his sense of misalignment is not merely physical but reaches into the existential. The line “infected his code” ties bodily asymmetry to a deeper systemic failure, one that encompasses both mind and body, leaving him trapped in an endless cycle of perceived flaws and failed fixes.
The poem closes with a resignation to fantasy. The idea of a “supercomputer” iron-maiden that could force his body into perfect alignment illustrates the dark fantasy of a final, ultimate correction—a violent, mechanistic process that reflects the narrator’s underlying desire for order at any cost. The imagery of the iron-maiden—an ancient torture device—emphasizes the brutality inherent in this quest for bodily perfection, suggesting that the narrator’s desire for symmetry is itself a form of self-torture. His triumphant exclamation, “Take that, bitch!” conveys the ultimate irony: the victory, even if achieved, would be hollow, a victory over a body that resists being reshaped by sheer will.
In its entirety, Full-Bodied Crookedness is a meditation on the psychological toll of body dysmorphia and the lengths to which one might go in the futile pursuit of physical perfection. Through its grotesque imagery, militaristic language, and existential underpinnings, the poem captures the obsessive, self-destructive nature of perfectionism and the deep existential anxiety that often lies beneath.
body dysmorphia, obsessive perfectionism, self-image, physical asymmetry, existential anxiety, self-destructive behavior, body fixation, neurotic self-perception, American perfectionism, grotesque imagery, body modification
What If He Had Known About Beta Blockers?
What If He Had Known About Beta Blockers? explores the tension between artistic performance, anxiety, and the role of neurosis in creative expression. The poem's title directly references beta blockers, a class of drugs often prescribed to help performers manage anxiety by reducing the physical symptoms associated with stress, such as trembling or a rapid heart rate. In the context of the poem, the speaker speculates about how the subject's life might have changed had he known about this medical intervention, suggesting a possible escape from the overwhelming mental chatter that impedes his saxophone performance.
The poem opens by portraying the "intrusive mind chatter" of performance anxiety as a force that obstructs the subject’s natural "saxophone brilliance" from achieving the "flow states" necessary for consistent creative output. In psychological terms, a flow state is a mental state of full immersion and focus where an artist’s creativity flows effortlessly, without the interference of self-consciousness or doubt. However, for the subject, the invasive thoughts brought on by anxiety create a blockage, cutting off access to this peak creative experience. The saxophone, an instrument known for its association with jazz—a genre rooted in improvisation and spontaneity—serves as a symbol of this interrupted potential, where anxiety kills the opportunity for artistic freedom.
The poem then shifts to how this anxiety paradoxically "shoved him into poetry," a medium where neurosis is not a hindrance but a source of creative power. In this medium, his anxiety transforms from a murderer of expression to a "midwife of magic." The metaphor of a midwife emphasizes the idea that, within poetry, the neurotic mind gives birth to something profound, rather than stifling it. Poetry, in this case, becomes a space where headiness—intense self-awareness or overthinking—is not only tolerated but celebrated as a tool for creating meaning.
The poem further uses the metaphor of "a whistling sphincter" to emphasize the absurdity and rawness of neurosis. The "whistling" represents a form of uncontrolled, involuntary expression, something grotesque yet functional. This image, while jarring, captures the unpolished nature of creativity born from anxiety: it is not smooth or refined, like the flow of saxophone music, but instead rough and filled with the unpredictable quirks of the mind.
Ultimately, the poem asks whether the subject’s creative path might have been different had he been able to quell his anxiety with beta blockers. By posing this hypothetical, the poem raises questions about the relationship between mental struggle and artistic output: Would the subject have continued to pursue music, excelling in his original field, or was the shift to poetry—where neurosis thrives—a necessary outcome of his anxious nature? More broadly, the poem reflects on how the mind's inner turmoil, while often seen as a hindrance, can sometimes be channeled into creative productivity in unexpected ways. This tension between anxiety as both a barrier and a catalyst for creativity is central to the poem’s thematic exploration.
In essence, What If He Had Known About Beta Blockers? engages with the idea that creative expression can arise from the very mental obstacles that seem to stand in the way. By highlighting the shift from music to poetry, the poem suggests that anxiety may not be an entirely negative force but rather a complex one that, when harnessed, can lead to profound artistic output in different forms.
performance anxiety, beta blockers, creative expression, neurosis in art, flow states, saxophone brilliance, poetry as escape, mental struggle, artistic productivity, jazz improvisation, anxiety and creativity, shift from music to poetry.
With Her Jaw Still Wired Shut
With Her Jaw Still Wired Shut presents a psychologically rich and unsettling exploration of power, predation, and familial misunderstanding. At its core, the poem delves into the tragic dynamics of a mother-son relationship, where maternal intuition collides with darker instincts within her son. The title itself, invoking the image of a jaw wired shut, suggests the aftermath of violence or trauma, perhaps even a long-standing silence or inability to communicate openly. This physical restraint may symbolize both the literal inability to speak and the figurative suppression of the truths lying beneath the surface of their relationship.
The poem begins with the mother’s belief that she has detected a crack in her son’s seemingly impenetrable facade—a “don’t-fuck-with-me slouch.” Her intuition, however, is guided by a wishful radar, hinting at her desire to connect with him emotionally, despite the warning signs. This "radar" suggests a heightened maternal sensitivity, attuned to her son's emotional needs, but here it is tragically misguided. She perceives the possibility of vulnerability in her son, a need for care that compels her to move closer, attempting to bridge the gap between them.
However, her approach—driven by love and concern—proves to be fatal in more ways than one. The moment of violence, when "a pen pierced her temple as she leaned in," represents not only a literal attack but also a symbolic rebuff of her emotional overture. The pen, typically an instrument of communication, becomes a weapon that severs rather than connects. This act of violence is a rejection of her attempt to provide comfort or contact. The son's reaction reveals a deeper, darker truth about his internal world—one where predatory instincts take precedence over vulnerability or emotional connection. The use of the pen also symbolizes the son's attempt to write his own narrative of control, with violence as the ink that marks his boundary.
The metaphor of the "sated-lion warmth" within the son is crucial to understanding the predator-prey dynamic at play. While the mother’s instinct was to provide nurture and empathy, the son’s inner state is aligned with that of a predator who has successfully made his kill. The "purring" warmth inside him is not one of relief or comfort but of satisfaction from having asserted his dominance. This predatory satisfaction suggests that he has achieved a kind of victory, having neutralized what he perceives as a threat—his mother's emotional closeness. The use of animal imagery reinforces this dynamic: the son as a lion, sated after a kill, and the mother as prey who has misjudged her place in this primal hierarchy.
The tragic irony of the poem lies in the mother’s conviction that she was "correct" in her intuition about her son’s emotional needs. She is indeed correct in sensing that he needed something, but what he required was not the emotional comfort she sought to provide. Rather, he needed the assertion of his predatory instincts, a reestablishment of control, and the satisfaction of his darker, more violent impulses. The poem’s final lines, where the mother’s inability to feel "that sated-lion warmth" blinds her to the true nature of their exchange, underscores the tragedy. She is correct in one sense, but she has failed to recognize the full complexity of his emotional state, particularly the dangerous undercurrents of his predatory desires.
The poem explores themes of violence, miscommunication, and the darker instincts that can lie beneath familial relationships. The mother’s compassion and desire for emotional connection are pitted against the son’s need for control, which manifests through violence. This tension between nurture and dominance, between maternal care and predatory assertion, forms the crux of the poem. In its final analysis, With Her Jaw Still Wired Shut serves as a meditation on the ways in which familial love can be tragically misdirected, especially when darker, unspoken needs and instincts are at play. The poem’s exploration of power dynamics within the family highlights the painful reality that not all emotional needs are met with compassion—sometimes, they are met with violence.
predatory instincts, familial violence, mother-son relationship, power dynamics, miscommunication, maternal compassion, emotional dominance, predator-prey dynamic, animal imagery, tragedy of misreading, familial conflict.
RE: Lotery Grandprize Millon
RE: Lotery Grandprize Millon presents a layered critique of societal vulnerability to deception, blending humor with an underlying sadness that emerges from the modern age's predatory systems. The title itself—a misspelled version of a scam email subject—perfectly sets the tone, signaling a world where the obviousness of deceit is overlooked by those desperate for validation or hope. The poem draws sharp parallels between two exploitative schemes: OnlyFans targeting the young and email lottery fraud targeting the elderly, thus showing how different forms of exploitation prey upon the fragile desires of both age groups.
The first stanza focuses on the world of OnlyFans, where young women—lured by promises of quick fame or fortune—often find themselves commodifying their bodies online. The line "barely legal / OnlyFans debut!" highlights the predatory nature of the platform, with its appeal to a "barely legal" audience, emphasizing the exploitation of youth and the fragile state of being thrust into adulthood with little foresight. The phrase "bagged by such DMs" not only captures how these young individuals are enticed by predatory messaging but also suggests their passive victimhood, entrapped by systems promising quick success.
In contrast, the second half of the poem shifts to focus on the elderly, specifically "gray widowers," who are equally vulnerable to another kind of digital manipulation: email lottery scams. The poem humorously yet tragically describes how these elderly men fall prey to schemes like the one referenced in the poem's title, where scam emails with broken grammar ("Dear Winner Luky") offer the illusion of financial salvation. The vivid image of these men shuffling out to obtain a "SMALL proces fee moneys order" reflects a deep desperation and the almost tragic hopefulness with which they pursue this illusion. The misspelling in the title and email highlights how glaring red flags—such as grammatical errors—are often ignored by those so desperate for relief from loneliness or financial instability.
The poem juxtaposes these two scenarios—youthful exploitation on OnlyFans and elderly deception by scammers—to illustrate a shared vulnerability across age groups. Both the young and the elderly are exploited by the digital age’s promises of quick solutions to deep-seated human desires, whether it’s fame, money, or validation. By weaving together these two forms of manipulation, the poem creates a broader commentary on society’s tendency to prey on the weak, whether young or old, using different techniques but with similar devastating results.
In its tone, the poem blends dark humor with a sharp critique of the systems that facilitate these scams. The casual cruelty of the OnlyFans world—where youth are reduced to objects of consumption—and the almost absurd vulnerability of the elderly—who fall for obvious scams—reflect how deeply predatory mechanisms have woven themselves into modern life. The humor in the poem's closing lines, where "widowers shuffle out" to get their money orders, underscores the tragedy of how the most vulnerable in society are often the easiest to deceive.
Ultimately, RE: Lotery Grandprize Millon draws attention to the universality of exploitation in the digital age, where individuals—whether young or old—are equally susceptible to manipulation. The poem serves as a reminder of the human cost of living in a world where quick gains, false promises, and digital illusions dominate our sense of reality, leaving many, regardless of age, vulnerable to deceit.
digital scams, OnlyFans exploitation, email lottery fraud, elderly vulnerability, youth manipulation, societal critique, digital age deception, human desires, predatory systems, scam culture.
The Tooth
The Tooth presents a raw, visceral portrayal of a strained father-son relationship, shaped by addiction, violence, and a quest for validation. The poem is divided into three sections, each depicting different moments of emotional manipulation, cruel humor, and desperation, where the son—both victim and instigator—comes to terms with his father’s self-destructive behavior while grappling with his own emerging sense of identity and power.
The first section introduces the father’s addictions, presenting them as a backdrop to the son’s childhood. The father’s "oral fixation" manifests in chain-smoking and excessive drinking, both of which the son observes with a mixture of frustration and fascination. The vivid imagery of the father’s substance abuse—Newport 100s lit in succession, cases of Natural Ice consumed daily—sets the tone for the chaotic and dysfunctional dynamic between father and son. The son’s response is initially one of rebellion, expressed through pranks that, although humorous on the surface, hint at a deeper desire for control and revenge against a father who has repeatedly broken promises to quit drinking. The pranks evolve from lighthearted actions like throwing bologna on his sleeping father to darker, more demeaning acts, such as drawing a clown face on him while unconscious. This escalation mirrors the son’s increasing frustration with his father’s inability to change, as well as his own growing thirst for power over the man who once held authority in his life.
The second section delves deeper into the psychological complexity of their relationship. The son uses emotional manipulation to toy with his father’s guilt, constructing false narratives of abuse in order to provoke a reaction. The son’s performance, laden with after-school-special-style dialogue, showcases the depth of his cunning as he exploits his father’s drunken state. The father, despite his inebriation, is drawn in by the son’s fabricated stories, falling into a state of protective rage, sobbing and threatening to kill the imaginary abuser. This scene is both tragic and darkly comedic, as the father’s genuine concern is met with the son’s insincere playacting. The son’s need to provoke an emotional response from his father reveals a deeper longing for attention and validation, even if it means manipulating the man who is already emotionally fragile. The son’s fabricated accusations of "love games" reflect the blurred boundaries between affection, manipulation, and violence that characterize their relationship.
In the final section, the poem reaches its climax with the father’s self-inflicted tooth extraction. The scene is charged with a sense of masochistic pride as the father, goaded by his son’s taunts, proves his love and paternity by pulling out his own molar with a pair of linesman pliers. The son’s manipulation in this moment is both calculated and cruel, as he questions his father’s identity and challenges him to prove his worth. The father’s response—“If I love ya!”—is both a declaration of affection and a submission to the son’s power, as he mutilates himself to affirm his paternal role. The violent act of tooth-pulling becomes a grotesque metaphor for the father’s desperation to hold onto his place in his son’s life, even at the cost of physical pain and humiliation. The linoleum splattered with blood serves as a stark visual representation of the emotional carnage that has been building throughout the poem.
Throughout The Tooth, the son’s relationship with his father is marked by a complex interplay of love, resentment, and power. The son’s pranks and manipulations are not merely acts of rebellion but expressions of a deeper desire for control in a world where the father’s addictions and failures have rendered him powerless. The father, in turn, is portrayed as a tragic figure, both complicit in his own downfall and desperate for his son’s approval, even if it means self-destruction. The poem captures the cyclical nature of their dysfunction, where love is intertwined with cruelty, and validation is sought through pain. The repeated phrase, "If I love ya," underscores the father’s desperate need to prove his worth through extreme actions, while the son’s calculated manipulation reveals his growing understanding of the power dynamics at play.
Ultimately, The Tooth offers a stark commentary on the complexities of familial relationships, where love is often expressed through violence, manipulation, and self-sacrifice. The poem’s visceral imagery and dark humor amplify the emotional intensity of the father-son dynamic, leaving the reader to grapple with the unsettling nature of their bond.
father-son relationship, addiction, manipulation, self-destruction, power dynamics, oral fixation, familial dysfunction, emotional manipulation, tooth-pulling, dark humor, violence, paternal love, visceral imagery.
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Don’t let anyone tell you that real life is lacking in poetic interest. This is exactly what the poet is for: he has the mind and the imagination to find something of interest in everyday things. Real life supplies the motifs, the points that need to be said—the actual heart of the matter; but it is the poet’s job to fashion it all into a beautiful, animated whole. You are familiar with Fürnstein, the so-called “nature poet”? He has written a poem about growing hops, and you couldn’t imagine anything nicer. I have now asked him to write some poems celebrating the work of skilled artisans, in particular weavers, and I am quite sure he will succeed; he has lived among such people from an early age, he knows the subject inside out, and will be in full command of his material. That is the advantage of small works: you need only choose subjects that you know and have at your command. With a longer poetic work, however, this is not possible. There is no way around it: all the different threads that tie the whole thing together, and are woven into the design, have to be shown in accurate detail. Young people only have a one-sided view of things, whereas a longer work requires a multiplicity of viewpoints—and that’s where they come unstuck.—Goethe (Conversations with Eckermann)
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