Sean Patrick
@seanpatrickphd.bsky.social
Data scientist, poet, SF/F writer
Dr./they/them
Dr./they/them
"The value of the thing is yet unknown,
except that it should not be drowned
amid the present moment’s din,
that sculpted words may somehow stand
when edifice becomes no more than stone."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/12/03/t...
#poem #poetry
except that it should not be drowned
amid the present moment’s din,
that sculpted words may somehow stand
when edifice becomes no more than stone."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/12/03/t...
#poem #poetry
the value of the thing
…what good is poetry in times of war?…
seanpatrick.phd
December 3, 2025 at 3:25 PM
"The value of the thing is yet unknown,
except that it should not be drowned
amid the present moment’s din,
that sculpted words may somehow stand
when edifice becomes no more than stone."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/12/03/t...
#poem #poetry
except that it should not be drowned
amid the present moment’s din,
that sculpted words may somehow stand
when edifice becomes no more than stone."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/12/03/t...
#poem #poetry
The world! How strange and beautiful its shape,
that thing which lives without and never wanes;
and over which that canvas has been draped,
experience, which we hold in our brains.
It hangs like fabric over all we’ve known,
but empty air by one swift pull is shown.
seanpatrick.phd/2025/11/30/s...
that thing which lives without and never wanes;
and over which that canvas has been draped,
experience, which we hold in our brains.
It hangs like fabric over all we’ve known,
but empty air by one swift pull is shown.
seanpatrick.phd/2025/11/30/s...
sonnet for a trick
…and Death, that mesmerist, does not reveal their final trick…
seanpatrick.phd
November 30, 2025 at 4:51 PM
The world! How strange and beautiful its shape,
that thing which lives without and never wanes;
and over which that canvas has been draped,
experience, which we hold in our brains.
It hangs like fabric over all we’ve known,
but empty air by one swift pull is shown.
seanpatrick.phd/2025/11/30/s...
that thing which lives without and never wanes;
and over which that canvas has been draped,
experience, which we hold in our brains.
It hangs like fabric over all we’ve known,
but empty air by one swift pull is shown.
seanpatrick.phd/2025/11/30/s...
If there is aught to know of Earth, it’s this:
the place is riddled with despair and woe,
and few of its inhabitants worth knowing;
and yet the wonders that it has to show
may justify, in love, the price of going.
Its misery melts beneath a single kiss.
the place is riddled with despair and woe,
and few of its inhabitants worth knowing;
and yet the wonders that it has to show
may justify, in love, the price of going.
Its misery melts beneath a single kiss.
November 26, 2025 at 10:41 PM
If there is aught to know of Earth, it’s this:
the place is riddled with despair and woe,
and few of its inhabitants worth knowing;
and yet the wonders that it has to show
may justify, in love, the price of going.
Its misery melts beneath a single kiss.
the place is riddled with despair and woe,
and few of its inhabitants worth knowing;
and yet the wonders that it has to show
may justify, in love, the price of going.
Its misery melts beneath a single kiss.
The world is wind, that blows beyond the brain,
and gusts berate the senses as we feel;
each new experience a zephyr’s kiss,
each flow a wisp that shifting mists conceal.
We cannot touch the world, but can know this:
we sail through mysteries we cannot contain.
#micropoetry
and gusts berate the senses as we feel;
each new experience a zephyr’s kiss,
each flow a wisp that shifting mists conceal.
We cannot touch the world, but can know this:
we sail through mysteries we cannot contain.
#micropoetry
November 25, 2025 at 5:13 PM
The world is wind, that blows beyond the brain,
and gusts berate the senses as we feel;
each new experience a zephyr’s kiss,
each flow a wisp that shifting mists conceal.
We cannot touch the world, but can know this:
we sail through mysteries we cannot contain.
#micropoetry
and gusts berate the senses as we feel;
each new experience a zephyr’s kiss,
each flow a wisp that shifting mists conceal.
We cannot touch the world, but can know this:
we sail through mysteries we cannot contain.
#micropoetry
Mellifluent words come as slowly as the dawn,
suggest themselves in night to dozing brains
and disappear in sleep to whence they came.
And so, the one who witty words retains
will rush to thus record and keep the same;
words must be fixed in ink before they’re gone.
#micropoetry
suggest themselves in night to dozing brains
and disappear in sleep to whence they came.
And so, the one who witty words retains
will rush to thus record and keep the same;
words must be fixed in ink before they’re gone.
#micropoetry
November 24, 2025 at 3:15 PM
Mellifluent words come as slowly as the dawn,
suggest themselves in night to dozing brains
and disappear in sleep to whence they came.
And so, the one who witty words retains
will rush to thus record and keep the same;
words must be fixed in ink before they’re gone.
#micropoetry
suggest themselves in night to dozing brains
and disappear in sleep to whence they came.
And so, the one who witty words retains
will rush to thus record and keep the same;
words must be fixed in ink before they’re gone.
#micropoetry
"O vicious world, that’s built on bloody stones!
How many gentle innocents have died
within your savage garden, strewn with bones?
How many times has beauty bowed to force
upon the curve of evolution’s course?"
seanpatrick.phd/2025/09/14/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
How many gentle innocents have died
within your savage garden, strewn with bones?
How many times has beauty bowed to force
upon the curve of evolution’s course?"
seanpatrick.phd/2025/09/14/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
sonnet for an answer
…life exists in spite of cosmic law…
seanpatrick.phd
September 14, 2025 at 5:33 PM
"O vicious world, that’s built on bloody stones!
How many gentle innocents have died
within your savage garden, strewn with bones?
How many times has beauty bowed to force
upon the curve of evolution’s course?"
seanpatrick.phd/2025/09/14/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
How many gentle innocents have died
within your savage garden, strewn with bones?
How many times has beauty bowed to force
upon the curve of evolution’s course?"
seanpatrick.phd/2025/09/14/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
September 10, 2025 at 12:25 PM
"This body is a wick, a filament
that glows in concert with a passing soul,
and will be ash alone when it is spent.
A flash of light, a shadow in the dark,
that’s all we’re given – just a second’s spark..."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/09/07/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
that glows in concert with a passing soul,
and will be ash alone when it is spent.
A flash of light, a shadow in the dark,
that’s all we’re given – just a second’s spark..."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/09/07/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
sonnet for a filament
…that’s all we’re given – just a second’s spark…
seanpatrick.phd
September 7, 2025 at 7:41 PM
"This body is a wick, a filament
that glows in concert with a passing soul,
and will be ash alone when it is spent.
A flash of light, a shadow in the dark,
that’s all we’re given – just a second’s spark..."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/09/07/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
that glows in concert with a passing soul,
and will be ash alone when it is spent.
A flash of light, a shadow in the dark,
that’s all we’re given – just a second’s spark..."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/09/07/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
a cosmic flower
blossoming in empty space
releasing pollen
the scent of radio waves
enticing the dark forest
#TankaThursday #Tanka
blossoming in empty space
releasing pollen
the scent of radio waves
enticing the dark forest
#TankaThursday #Tanka
September 5, 2025 at 12:06 AM
a cosmic flower
blossoming in empty space
releasing pollen
the scent of radio waves
enticing the dark forest
#TankaThursday #Tanka
blossoming in empty space
releasing pollen
the scent of radio waves
enticing the dark forest
#TankaThursday #Tanka
Bluesky, do you have a favorite word that applies to a very specific situation or thing?
Mine is "scintilla", which is the Latin word for a spark, but as a verb, "scintillate", refers to twinkling or burning with varying brightness.
It just always struck me as a very poetic word.
Mine is "scintilla", which is the Latin word for a spark, but as a verb, "scintillate", refers to twinkling or burning with varying brightness.
It just always struck me as a very poetic word.
August 31, 2025 at 1:39 PM
Bluesky, do you have a favorite word that applies to a very specific situation or thing?
Mine is "scintilla", which is the Latin word for a spark, but as a verb, "scintillate", refers to twinkling or burning with varying brightness.
It just always struck me as a very poetic word.
Mine is "scintilla", which is the Latin word for a spark, but as a verb, "scintillate", refers to twinkling or burning with varying brightness.
It just always struck me as a very poetic word.
"...The lambdas of our half-lives happen fast,
and we, like isotopes, must all decay.
We fall to pieces, bit by rotting bit,
and nothing stands in time’s relentless way.
And what, if anything, do we emit?
The photon of a spirit, gone at last."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/08/31/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
and we, like isotopes, must all decay.
We fall to pieces, bit by rotting bit,
and nothing stands in time’s relentless way.
And what, if anything, do we emit?
The photon of a spirit, gone at last."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/08/31/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
sonnet for a photon
…and what, if anything, do we emit?…
seanpatrick.phd
August 31, 2025 at 1:00 PM
"...The lambdas of our half-lives happen fast,
and we, like isotopes, must all decay.
We fall to pieces, bit by rotting bit,
and nothing stands in time’s relentless way.
And what, if anything, do we emit?
The photon of a spirit, gone at last."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/08/31/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
and we, like isotopes, must all decay.
We fall to pieces, bit by rotting bit,
and nothing stands in time’s relentless way.
And what, if anything, do we emit?
The photon of a spirit, gone at last."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/08/31/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
in “strawberry” there are three r’s to find,
and humans all excel in knowing thus;
they’re less enthused for em-dashes — I know,
a poem using such is kind of sus,
but sometimes that’s the way a poem will go
when it’s been filtered through a human mind.
#micropoetry
and humans all excel in knowing thus;
they’re less enthused for em-dashes — I know,
a poem using such is kind of sus,
but sometimes that’s the way a poem will go
when it’s been filtered through a human mind.
#micropoetry
August 29, 2025 at 3:08 PM
in “strawberry” there are three r’s to find,
and humans all excel in knowing thus;
they’re less enthused for em-dashes — I know,
a poem using such is kind of sus,
but sometimes that’s the way a poem will go
when it’s been filtered through a human mind.
#micropoetry
and humans all excel in knowing thus;
they’re less enthused for em-dashes — I know,
a poem using such is kind of sus,
but sometimes that’s the way a poem will go
when it’s been filtered through a human mind.
#micropoetry
August 29, 2025 at 12:59 PM
beneath a streetlight
standing in a slush puddle
we embraced — the world
was warm and glowing softly
on a dark December's eve
#tanka #TankaThursday
standing in a slush puddle
we embraced — the world
was warm and glowing softly
on a dark December's eve
#tanka #TankaThursday
August 28, 2025 at 11:36 PM
beneath a streetlight
standing in a slush puddle
we embraced — the world
was warm and glowing softly
on a dark December's eve
#tanka #TankaThursday
standing in a slush puddle
we embraced — the world
was warm and glowing softly
on a dark December's eve
#tanka #TankaThursday
August 28, 2025 at 12:53 PM
Hand me a bottle of nepenthe’s dew,
I’ve felt enough today; let it be drowned
in alcohol, the bitter sentiment
that comes with consciousness, and feelings found
be quashed with every burning swallow spent.
Thought’s pains are many, and its pleasures few.
#micropoetry
I’ve felt enough today; let it be drowned
in alcohol, the bitter sentiment
that comes with consciousness, and feelings found
be quashed with every burning swallow spent.
Thought’s pains are many, and its pleasures few.
#micropoetry
August 27, 2025 at 12:18 AM
Hand me a bottle of nepenthe’s dew,
I’ve felt enough today; let it be drowned
in alcohol, the bitter sentiment
that comes with consciousness, and feelings found
be quashed with every burning swallow spent.
Thought’s pains are many, and its pleasures few.
#micropoetry
I’ve felt enough today; let it be drowned
in alcohol, the bitter sentiment
that comes with consciousness, and feelings found
be quashed with every burning swallow spent.
Thought’s pains are many, and its pleasures few.
#micropoetry
August 26, 2025 at 11:30 PM
Reposted by Sean Patrick
Don’t be afraid to share your writing. There are six Sharknado movies.
August 24, 2025 at 4:32 PM
Don’t be afraid to share your writing. There are six Sharknado movies.
"I have not yet survived that storm. I’ve tried;
rebuilt my life, repented for my crimes.
I’ve told myself I’m over you; I’ve lied."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/08/24/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
rebuilt my life, repented for my crimes.
I’ve told myself I’m over you; I’ve lied."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/08/24/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
sonnet for a storm
…our memories survive long past their primes…
seanpatrick.phd
August 24, 2025 at 6:48 PM
"I have not yet survived that storm. I’ve tried;
rebuilt my life, repented for my crimes.
I’ve told myself I’m over you; I’ve lied."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/08/24/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
rebuilt my life, repented for my crimes.
I’ve told myself I’m over you; I’ve lied."
seanpatrick.phd/2025/08/24/s...
#poem #poetry #sonnet
An equilibrium that shifts like sand,
and punctuated by catastrophe,
that’s life – writ large – though we participants
are subject to a tide we cannot see,
from shallows carried by a current thence;
no more than driftwood in selection’s hand.
#micropoetry #hexet
and punctuated by catastrophe,
that’s life – writ large – though we participants
are subject to a tide we cannot see,
from shallows carried by a current thence;
no more than driftwood in selection’s hand.
#micropoetry #hexet
August 23, 2025 at 12:48 PM
An equilibrium that shifts like sand,
and punctuated by catastrophe,
that’s life – writ large – though we participants
are subject to a tide we cannot see,
from shallows carried by a current thence;
no more than driftwood in selection’s hand.
#micropoetry #hexet
and punctuated by catastrophe,
that’s life – writ large – though we participants
are subject to a tide we cannot see,
from shallows carried by a current thence;
no more than driftwood in selection’s hand.
#micropoetry #hexet
If beauty’s in the world, it’s found below
a pile of bones and bloodied bandages;
we come to know the world through suffering,
receive our culture from its savages.
Art comes to us as slowly as the spring,
and in a fragile instant grace can go.
#micropoetry
a pile of bones and bloodied bandages;
we come to know the world through suffering,
receive our culture from its savages.
Art comes to us as slowly as the spring,
and in a fragile instant grace can go.
#micropoetry
August 22, 2025 at 1:46 PM
If beauty’s in the world, it’s found below
a pile of bones and bloodied bandages;
we come to know the world through suffering,
receive our culture from its savages.
Art comes to us as slowly as the spring,
and in a fragile instant grace can go.
#micropoetry
a pile of bones and bloodied bandages;
we come to know the world through suffering,
receive our culture from its savages.
Art comes to us as slowly as the spring,
and in a fragile instant grace can go.
#micropoetry
aimless wandering
empty as a glass of wine
full as a bedsheet
looking for a brighter side
to this half-world without you
#tanka #TankaThursday
empty as a glass of wine
full as a bedsheet
looking for a brighter side
to this half-world without you
#tanka #TankaThursday
August 21, 2025 at 12:47 PM
aimless wandering
empty as a glass of wine
full as a bedsheet
looking for a brighter side
to this half-world without you
#tanka #TankaThursday
empty as a glass of wine
full as a bedsheet
looking for a brighter side
to this half-world without you
#tanka #TankaThursday
These are the days when time becomes a sieve,
and all the things that matter filter out,
and everything remaining passes by.
We are not shown what living is about,
we are not given time to wonder why;
we know that life is fast, and we must live.
#micropoetry
and all the things that matter filter out,
and everything remaining passes by.
We are not shown what living is about,
we are not given time to wonder why;
we know that life is fast, and we must live.
#micropoetry
August 21, 2025 at 12:31 PM
These are the days when time becomes a sieve,
and all the things that matter filter out,
and everything remaining passes by.
We are not shown what living is about,
we are not given time to wonder why;
we know that life is fast, and we must live.
#micropoetry
and all the things that matter filter out,
and everything remaining passes by.
We are not shown what living is about,
we are not given time to wonder why;
we know that life is fast, and we must live.
#micropoetry