It's National Poetry Month! Submit your poetry and we'll publish it here on Read Write.as.
It's National Poetry Month! Submit your poetry and we'll publish it here on Read Write.as.
from
Roscoe's Story
In Summary: * A quiet and enjoyable Sunday is winding down as I listen to an MLB Game between the Cleveland Guardians and the Atlanta Braves. Through most of the afternoon I followed the last round of this year's Masters Golf Tournament. Congrats to Rory McIlroy who won this year's Masters.
I may or may not stay with this ball game to the end, depending on when my metabolism starts to shut down. Tomorrow is Monday and I'll want to wake early with my alarms to fix the morning coffee and help the wife get ready to leave for work. I'll work through the night prayers while listening to the game, and head to bed shortly after.
Prayers, etc.: * I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night. Details of that regimen are linked to my link tree, which is linked to my profile page here.
Starting Ash Wednesday, 2026, I've added this daily prayer as part of the Prayer Crusade Preceding the 2026 SSPX Episcopal Consecrations.
Health Metrics: * bw= 229.61 lbs. * bp= 140/84 (68)
Exercise: * morning stretches, balance exercises, kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups
Diet: * 07:00 – 1 peanut butter sandwich, 1 banana, 1 HEB Bakery cookie * 08:55 – crispy oatmeal cookies * 12:20 – crackers and cheese * 15:20 – shrimp, meat, and vegetable soup
Activities, Chores, etc.: * 05:00 – listen to local news talk radio * 06:00 – bank accounts activity monitored. * 07:00 – read, write, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials, nap. * 11:00 – watch 2 special golf history shows ahead of this afternoon's coverage of the 2026 Masters Golf Tournament * 13:00 – watching coverage of the final round of this year's Masters – and once again, Rory McIlroy wins the Masters * 18:00 – listening to the Cleveland Guardians pregame show ahead of tonight's MLB game featuring the Guardians playing the Atlanta Braves.
Chess: * 17:00 – moved in all pending CC games
from Patrimoine Médard bourgault


Il y a deux ans, j'ai passé plusieurs journées dans l'atelier d'André, au Vivoir, à Saint-Jean-Port-Joli.
J'avais une caméra. Lui, ses gouges.
Ce que j'ai filmé, c'est un processus complet — un tronc de tilleul brut qui devient, coup par coup, un visage de femme. Environ huit heures de travail entièrement filmées. Du premier trait de crayon à la dernière passe de ciseau.

André Médard Bourgault a 85 ans. Il est le fils de Médard Bourgault. Il sculpte depuis l'enfance. Il sculpte encore.

Pendant ces heures, il travaille et il parle. Il nomme chaque outil au moment où il le prend. Il explique pourquoi ce ciseau plutôt qu'un autre, comment lire le fil du bois, où frapper et où s'arrêter. Il montre comment il a appris — les gestes transmis par son père, et ceux qu'il a développés lui-même au fil des décennies.
Ce n'est pas un cours. C'est une transmission.
Ce qui est capté ici ne peut pas être reconstruit. C'est un savoir en action, porté par une personne qui l'a reçu directement et qui le pratique encore.

Je n'ai pas encore décidé comment rendre ce contenu accessible — la forme, le moment, la manière. C'est un projet qui se construit.
Mais pour l'instant, je partage un extrait. Dix minutes tirées du début du processus.
Le reste existe. Et ça, c'est irremplaçable.
Raphaël Maltais Bourgault


Pour comprendre le Domaine Médard Bourgault
Ces pages permettent de découvrir le domaine, son histoire, et les enjeux actuels à travers des archives, des analyses et des témoignages directs.
Archives et mémoire du lieu → Domaine Médard Bourgault — archives sonores et témoignages d’André Médard Bourgault Enregistrements réalisés sur le domaine, retraçant la vie, les gestes et la mémoire du lieu.
Analyses et situation actuelle → Domaine Médard Bourgault — analyses et enjeux actuels Réflexions et mises à jour sur les enjeux en cours.
Savoir et transmission → André Médard Bourgault — classe de maître complète en sculpture sur bois → Médard Bourgault — éducation artistique, principes, beauté et transmission Comprendre la pratique, la transmission et la vision artistique de Médard Bourgault.
Récit et contexte historique → Médard Bourgault — récit en mer inspiré de son journal (1913–1918) Un récit basé sur ses écrits, qui éclaire une période peu connue de sa vie.
Enjeu actuel du domaine → Domaine Médard Bourgault — le jardin doit-il devenir un accès public au fleuve ? Une question concrète sur l’avenir et l’usage du lieu.
from Nerd for Hire
I shifted some poetry chapbooks to the top of my TBR stack in honor of National Poetry Month, and I've been enjoying the change in pace. I always try to read a mix of novels and short story collections, but my usual reading is definitely very fiction heavy, and it's fairly rare for any nonfiction or poetry to slip into the mix. This is, in part, because I'm often not just reading for enjoyment. That's part of why I read, but I also see every book as an opportunity to learn—to see what kinds of stories other people are telling, or to pick up tricks of the trade, or get ideas for how to do things better in my own stories.
What I need to remember, though, is that fiction writers can also learn a lot from reading outside their genre. I've been aiming to keep the same craft-focused mindset when I'm reading poetry chapbooks, and I think I’ve picked up some useful tidbits. So, of course, figured I’d come share them with yinz.
Epic poems exist, but the majority of them are just a page or two long. From a wordcount perspective, they tend to stay comfortably in the flash fiction range, or even down in the micro- and nano-range. If you write in those lengths—or if you perpetually struggle to write flash because you can't seem to make a story stay short enough—then you can't find a better model for maximizing limited real estate than a well-written poem.
Poets do two things especially well that allows them to build characters, scenes, and big emotions without a lot of words. The first is that they're exacting in the words they do use. As a rule, poets are much more likely to search out the single specific, perfect word to convey their meaning than the average fiction writer (although, unsurprisingly, flash and micro writers tend to be experts in this area, as well). Speculative writers in particular can benefit from honing this skill because it can do more than limit the length of your descriptions. It can also prevent the need for info dumps to fill in world details when you can use the language of the story itself to make the reader feel immersed in your story's reality.
The second big thing poets do to keep things short: they understand subtext and implication, and trust their readers to figure things out without needing their hand held. This is another area where I struggle sometimes, and I think speculative writers especially are often prone to over-explaining. It can be tricky to strike the right balance, where you give readers enough information to fully picture the world you created without overwhelming them and bogging the story down with unnecessary details. This doesn't just happen with worldbuilding details, either. Themes and character backstories are also prone to this kind of over-explaining, and it can make readers feel hammered over the head in addition to adding unnecessary words that slow the pace. It's counter-intuitive, but readers actually feel more immersed in and connected to what they're reading when you give their imagination some space to play.
Poets think about words in a different way than most fiction writers. One way that manifests is that they're usually way more tuned in to the more musical aspects of language, like the rhythms created by the arrangement of stressed and unstressed syllables, and the punctuation and line breaks used to separate them.
I tend to think about rhythm on a more macro-level, but there are definitely times that it can benefit a fiction writer to pay attention to the line-by-line rhythm. When you do, you can use the language to make the reader linger over a key image or moment, or give them a rushed, breathless feel that pushes them forward through fast-paced action sequences.
Poets do have different tools at their disposal, line breaks being the big one. But fiction writers can make use of different sentence lengths and paragraph breaks to achieve similar effects. In a poem, a series of short lines creates a staccato feel, or a single word or phrase can be set on its own line to highlight it. The prose equivalent would be using very short, simple sentences, or using occasional one-sentence paragraphs that stand out from the longer stretches of text around them.
When a poem has consistent line lengths and stresses, that creates a steady rhythm that the reader settles into, to the point it's jarring when it's broken. Fiction writers can mimic this. For instance, let's say you want to set the scene of a normally peaceful suburban home that's just been the setting of a tragedy. You could describe the typical parts of the house using similar sentence lengths and structures, then break that rhythm for details related to the tragedy, mirroring the way that event broke the sameness of daily life in the house.
I'm weirdly enamored with poetic forms like the villanelle, pantoum, or sestina that use repeated words or lines as touchstones. When this is done well, it can create a feel of dwelling on or obsessing over a concept, or convey the sense of a narrator who feels stuck or trapped. This isn't the only way that repetition gets employed in poetry, of course, and it doesn't have to mean direct repetition of words or lines. A recurring image can serve the same function, especially when that image evolves over the course of the poem to reflect changes in the speaker.
This is a concept that fiction writers can steal wholesale from poets. And many already do. The first one that pops to my mind is always Chuck Palahniuk, whose books frequently have a refrain that runs through them. In Fight Club, for instance, there's the repeated aside start with “I am Jack's”—I am Jack's Medulla Oblongata, I am Jack's complete lack of surprise, etc. It becomes a kind of chorus commentating on the narrator's mental state. Another example is Slaughterhouse-Five, where Kurt Vonnegut repeats “so it goes” over a hundred times, a kind of fatalistic mantra that punctuates key moments.
This is one of those approaches you don't want to go overboard with, because too much repetition can make a story tedious to read. But selective repetition can be very useful for fiction writers. It functions as an anchor and flag for the reader, helping them to make the right connections between scenes, characters, and themes.
One of the cool things about poetry is that the experience of reading it on the page can sometimes be very different than that of hearing it read aloud. Some poems are intended for spoken performance more than silent reading. Obviously this is an area where it's poet-by-poet, but as a rule this is another area of language that poets think about a lot, and fiction writers usually neglect.
I'm not necessarily thinking about things like rhyme or alliteration when I say this, although those are certainly tools that fiction writers are allowed to play with, too. More, it's about understanding how the sounds of words flow together or don't. And the best way to get a sense for that is to do what poets do and read your work aloud. Any places where you stumble or have to slow down, a reader will likely do the same thing, even if they're just reading in their head. There are times you might want to create that effect intentionally, but it's not something you want happening by accident.
Speculative fiction writers in particular often need to think about how words sound, specifically when you're naming characters, places, and objects distinctive to your world. One of my pet peeves when I'm reading sci-fi or fantasy stories is when the author signals something is alien or supernatural by overloading its name with uncommon letters like X or Z without thinking about that name looks or sounds to the reader, or whether that look/sound matches with how that thing should come across.
When you're using an invented word, the reader relies on sound as well as context to understand its meaning, and you want to use this to your advantage. In Lord of the Rings, for instance, the elves have flowy-sounding names like Galadriel and Legolas, while the dwarves' names are more blunt (Gimli, Bifur, Thorin) and the Orcs' names use harsher sounds (Azog, Gothmog, Ugluk). How a word sounds gives the reader clues that frame their expectations. Granted, you can always defy that expectation if you want to, but that should still be an intentional choice.
I'm going to make a conscious effort to work more poetry chapbooks into my reading list even after April's over. I've been reading a lot of hefty sci-fi and fantasy books lately, so inserting a quick little chapbook in between I think could be a nice little palate cleanser and hit of the reset button. That's what's nice about chapbooks in general, too—they don't take too long to read, so you can give one a try without needing to invest a ton of time in the experiment. And, if you do find a poem or two that speak to you, you can take a bit more time and let yourself linger over them and dig into what the piece is doing that caught your attention.
I'll also say you don't have to read an entire book from one author. There are loads of free literary journals across the internet publishing spectacular poetry across genres, including an increasing number of sci-fi and fantasy poetry publishers like Star*Line and Dreams & Nightmares. These can be an easy way to start if you're a fiction writer looking to learn and get fresh inspiration from poetry.
See similar posts:
#WritingAdvice #Poetry
from
fromjunia
Unitarian Universalism teaches of the interdependent web. That every action revibrates widely to every other person, that no action is isolated either in cause or effect. In other words, responsibility is distributed, and there are no bystanders.
If I am caught in this web, how responsible can I be for my anorexia? I have felt that I am completely responsible. I chose to go along with it.
This teaching challenges me to reconsider that feeling. What was everyone else doing? How did society fail to protect me? How did it encourage me? How did my family contribute? What strings attached to me pulled me to Ana? I walked some of the way, but I was pulled too.
I do not feel I can care about being pulled, because I cannot control that. If responsibility is distributed then it is not mine, and if most of my life is me being pulled then my primary response is to feel and respond to those feelings. That strikes me as useless, because I become a responder and not an agent. The interdependent web is the rejection of my agency as articulated through atomistic models. But the trauma-informed—the factual—account is that my body is not a primary agent, and that it acts at a magnitude that dwarfs my ego. My ego seeks safety through agency. I’ve seen how that safety plays out.
The weird thing is that my ego-safety is not the important safety. It matters, but not as much as bodily-felt safety. And, unfortunately, I can’t independently act to secure my way to body-safety. I have to rely on others. I am vulnerable. That’s a fact that my body feels, no matter what my ego wants.
Maybe it’s self-confirming, but the interdependent web seems like another mark for pessimism. I need safety, and I cannot secure it on my own. I am vulnerable to the actions of others, no matter what I do, same as everyone else. We need things we cannot guarantee. And we’re an ego stapled to an animal body, where most the happenings occur in the body and the ego constantly struggles to find its place. The reality of being a human is bleak.
But pessimism is the truth that sets us free from the idolatry of the future, and it does so again here. There is no future where I can be invulnerable. Ana is an optimist: She says there can be a secure future through metering intake and narrowing the scope of the world to control of my body. No, that’s a lie. Ana can’t provide me safety. I am interdependent with every other soul. I am now, and always will be, vulnerable, and nothing I do can change that. I can only respond to it.
from
Turbulences
Hé, boule à facette ! Aurais-tu perdu la tête ?
Mais où est-il donc passé, ton sens de la fête ?
Fractures, tourments, dérives des continents,
Et puis, tout ces murs, qui séparent tes enfants…

from
Roscoe's Quick Notes

My sporting event to follow this Sunday will be final-round play in the 90th Masters Golf Tournament from Augusta, Ga. Coverage of this event will be preceded by two hour-l0ng specials: one focusing on the great golfer, Jack Nicklaus; and the other on current champion, Rory McIlroy. I intend to watch both specials and follow them by watching coverage of this year's final-round.
And the adventure continues.
from 下川友
8時くらいに起き、9時まで身支度を整えている時間が、いちばん自分らしい。 日曜日は、そういう日だ。
パソコンで作業をしようとしたが、頭痛に近い、しかし痛みではないだるさのようなシグナルが身体に走る。足元までその倦怠さが上から下へスキャンされるような気だるさに、その行為は静かに否定された。 今日はおとなしく、現実を見ろ、ということらしい。 そう感じたのは自分の解釈に過ぎないが、パソコンを見ないことが現実を見ることなのかもしれない、という妙な納得もあった。
夜は池袋でファントムというお笑いライブを観る予定だったので、妻と夕方から喫茶店でゆっくりすることにした。 カフェ・ド・巴里。初めて行く喫茶店だ。 喫茶店には珍しく、最中と紅茶のセットに目を惹かれた。しかし、最中を食べるときのあの独特のストレスが頭をよぎり、レモンタルトのセットを頼んだ。妻はミルクレープを選んだ。
ただ、レモンタルトもまた警戒対象のひとつだ。問題はタルト生地の硬さにある。 硬すぎると、フォークを入れた瞬間に生地が弾け、破片が飛び散る。これは手で食べるべきものなのか、それともフォークで食べるべきものなのか、毎回判断に迷う。 幸い、運ばれてきたタルトは柔らかい生地で、フォークもすんなり入った。 味も良かった。
夜はファントムへ。知らない文脈の芸人が多く、新鮮で刺激的だった。なかでもダダルズは特に入りやすく、面白かった。
帰りはマックに寄り、妻と感想を言い合う。 大人になっても、作品を楽しんだあとのマックには特別な感覚がある。昔の記憶と今の自分が交差し、時間が虹のように横へ流れていく。こんな時間がずっと続けばいいと思いながら、それでも明日も会社だと頭のどこかで思い、帰りの電車に乗った。
from
the casual critic
#fiction #videogames #solarpunk #ecology
Nature is not treated kindly in videogames. If it is not merely a backdrop in first-person-shooters for the game to hide your adversaries in, then it tends to exist to be exploited to grow an empire or fuel a war machine. Especially in real-team strategy, ‘4X’ (eXplore, eXpand, eXploit, eXterminate) and colony builder games, nature is relegated to the role of resource pool, waste sink, or both. And while over the years some games have tried to provide a more nuanced interaction with the environment, for example through introducing renewable resources or penalties for pollution, on the whole game dynamics have not moved on much since the days of Age of Empires when a player might frequently find their entire map depleted of gold, iron and wood. Watching your average trailer for a civilisation or colony building game (it’s there in the name, really), it rapidly becomes clear that success is measured by how much of the playable map is brought under human cultivation. While in the real world we are now reminded daily that we cannot forever impose our will or demands on the web of life, videogames remain mostly wedded to the Promethean promise of full human control over the natural environment.
It is exciting therefore to see games that take a radically different approach, especially given how rare this sadly remains. One such game is Terra Nil, developed by South African studio Free Lives. The game’s name is a play on ‘terra nullius’: the concept of unclaimed land that may be legitimately occupied, which was instrumental in legitimising European colonialist ventures in the 18th and 19th century. In Terra Nil, the land is not so much unclaimed as abandoned by humans as a result of total ecosystem collapse. It is up to the player to restore these barren landscapes to fully functional ecosystems.
Terra Nil is a remarkable achievement. Combining elegant gameplay with carefully crafted aesthetics, it does not just offer an engaging gaming experience, but effects a profound conceptual shift as to who and what games are for.
The core mechanics of Terra Nil are simple. The world is divided into zones, and the player must restore each zone into a viable ecosystem. Restoration always occurs in three phases. First, any damage must be remediated and a rudimentary ecosystem put in place. Next, the player must increase the complexity of the ecosystem by introducing different biomes, such as as arboreal forest, wetland, or tundra. As ecosystem diversity increases, key species will re-establish themselves, The third phase requires the player to optimise the animals’ happiness and to recycle all infrastructure to remove any human presence.
Each zone the game offers is different, requiring different techniques and buildings to overcome hurdles and create a sufficiently diverse and harmonious ecosystem. Some zones are arctic, whereas others are tropical. Some zones are contaminated with toxic or nuclear waste, or have unstable geological features that must be managed. Each map is its own puzzle, and as the game doesn’t impose a time limit, the player can carefully contemplate their every move without ever feeling rushed. It makes for a pleasantly zen experience, and for players who want any stress removed altogether, a special ‘zen’ mode is available.

An archipelago with some toxin scrubbers and minimal grassland.
To restore nature, the player deploys a range of buildings to remove toxins, irrigate the soil, reintroduce trees, etc. Some buildings have prerequisites, such as particular types of soil, power, or humidity or temperature levels, and the player may have to go through multiple preparatory steps before the desired biome is achieved. Construction is paid for using a single currency which is earned by achieving key restoration goals. This makes each map into its own intricate yet rewarding puzzle. My favourite part for each playthrough is when animals make their first reappearance, and a mostly static map suddenly becomes vibrant and dynamic.

The same archipelago from earlier, with beaches, wetlands, kelp forests and deciduous tree cover restored, and most infrastructure recycled.
One notable feature of Terra Nil is the complete absence of humans. There are no workers constructing or operating the buildings, or transporting resources to and fro. Although the buildings themselves have minor animations, their visual design blends them in with their surroundings. This means that the ecosystem is the most dynamic visual feature, foregrounding the landscape itself. It is a brilliant inversion of traditional top-down style colony builder games where the landscape is the passive tapestry on which the player’s grandiose schemes are played out. Terra Nil takes this to its logical conclusion by requiring the player to recycle all buildings in order to complete a map. Success in Terra Nil is full rewilding and the total absence of humans.

A restored volcanic caldera from which almost all infrastructure has been removed.
It is a radical departure from other games. In Terra Nil, the victory condition is not domination. Nor is it the success or survival or achievements of some human(oid) colony. Here, victory is lichen and happy zebras. It is restoring nature for its own sake, not as a means to an end.
Given the emphasis on ecological restoration, as well as its aesthetic, I have been reflecting on whether Terra Nil is a solarpunk videogame. Solarpunk as a genre is more associated with writing, visual artwork and television than gaming, likely because creating the mechanics for a game about cooperation is more difficult than doing the same for a game about shooting things. A key theme of solarpunk is ecological restoration, and this is clearly at the heart of Terra Nil. But as per this insightful essay by Ben Harris-Roxas, solarpunk also focuses on community and harmony between nature and humanity, as well as a more small-scale, ‘DIY’ approach to technology. By forcing the player to completely vacate the map, Terra Nil on the other hand implies that such harmony is not possible, and that ecological restoration can only be achieved through a separation between nature and humanity. In that, it follows more in the footsteps of Half Earth, and its spiritual yet historical-materialist successor Half Earth Socialism. The game developers also deliberately used a more industrial aesthetic for the game’s buildings on the grounds that large-scale restoration will require large-scale infrastructure, rather than local, community-based improvisation, which is another aspect in which it follows Half Earth Socialism.
Probably this is reading too much into the game, given it is ultimately a small project. Though it remains an open question for me where in the world of Terra Nil the humans have gone. With its focus on restoration rather than exploitation, its calm and natural aesthetic, and its intricate but forgiving gameplay, Terra Nil is certainly more solarpunk than any other game I have come across, and if it doesn’t fully fit into the genre, it is at the very least in constructive dialogue with it. Small nuances notwithstanding, Terra Nil definitely has the key feature of solarpunk in providing a welcome antidote of hope and harmony to a medium that is otherwise suffused with violence and dystopia. It shows us a path not just to an alternative way of relating to nature, but also a different role for videogames. Planting virtual trees does not directly save the world, but fostering a culture that values nature for itself, and chooses harmony over domination, may well get us there in the long run.
from
/twosadwhiteroses/
14:27 GMT Hi! I don't have a name, well, not one that you know of. Anyways, after much thought and much growing up which was long overdue, I have decided to start a blog. Think about it like my own personal public diary. I think that as I write more, I'll get into the swing of things, and then I can write freely. This is just a little intro to my life. I'll publish all sorts! Who knows, I guess we'll have to wait and see what will happen next.
-TSWR (PS, dear best friend, If you think it's me, it's not.)