Mitchell Nobis
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mitchnobis.bsky.social
Mitchell Nobis
@mitchnobis.bsky.social
3.8K followers 600 following 6.7K posts
Writer. Doofus. Old man hooper. Pretty much anything you want to know is at http://mitchnobis.com. Posts are my own, obviously—that's why I said it & not my employer, parents, dog, or whoever.
Also:
WNS: @wns-at-ksf.bsky.social
NAWP: @notatawp.bsky.social
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mitchnobis.bsky.social
My book's title (The Size of the Horizon, or, I Explained Everything to the Trees) in the Mamdani font generator.
November 8, 2025 at 10:40 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Let's hear it for senescence!

[crowd loses its mind cheering]
Rotting jack-o'-lanterns in our farmers market left over from the pumpkin carving contest last month
November 8, 2025 at 5:18 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Eat it or wear it!
Sioux Falls Skyforce has a player named Alex Fudge. This is a photo of the back of his jersey so it just says FUDGE and his number 7
November 8, 2025 at 1:36 AM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
What up doe, Motor City Cruise opener! Here's Jaden Akins for all of my Spartan Homies.
Former Michigan State University Spartan basketball player Jaden Akins playing point guard for the Detroit G league basketball team
November 8, 2025 at 1:25 AM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒶 𝒷𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝓈𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃.
Those paper printouts in gold script that say "The Oval Office" that the Trump admin taped to the wall this week like fancy li'l kindergarteners.
November 7, 2025 at 1:52 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Addendum
The bright half moon behind a tree that has lost most of its leaves. It's not black and white but it might as well be. Happy Halloween you gorgeous mofos.
November 1, 2025 at 1:30 AM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Happy Halloween from my awesome street to yours.
October 31, 2025 at 11:04 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Someone down the street has a yard full of decoration skeletons. Two of them sit at a card table with a cauldron on it. I have copy-pasted my poetry collection onto the table because presto! Now they're discussing poetry like a pair of learnéd skeletons. The neighbors also have a red light on them, so the whole scene is devilish. My neighborhood rules.
October 31, 2025 at 6:32 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
You lunatics expect me to go to work when the sky is looking cool like this and I could walk around all day?
Dark, pre-dawn sky With light cloud cover in intermittently broken up and stars beyond
October 31, 2025 at 10:06 AM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Happy to see automakers reverse trends and go small, but I'm not sure about this new sedan.
A goose sitting in a parking space.
October 30, 2025 at 7:54 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Another neighborhood skeleton decoration. This one is holding a watering can, but I "photoshopped" my book into its hands. Kind of. I really just copy-pasted a jpeg because I deeply enjoy not actually knowing how to photoshop something correctly. Anyway, the skeletons like my book.
October 30, 2025 at 7:06 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
I clumsily "photoshopped" jpegs of my book cover into the two hands of a decorative skeleton on a lamppost in someone's front yard in my neighborhood.
October 29, 2025 at 3:26 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
What up, doe—happy home opener holiday, y'all.
October 26, 2025 at 8:57 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Jalen Duren getting ejected from tonight's game for a flagrant 2 foul call. He's using his thumbs to pop up the DETROIT on his jersey. The collar of his jersey is in his mouth to further accentuate the DETROIT. It is, in short, perfect. A poem I shared here online back during the playoffs: What Work Is There are, of course, those Who think a poem is only A rhyme about a tree, a flower Beheld by a god, a gazing Into the eyes of love, but love Comes in more shades than the Infinite blues on a Great Lake Between dawn and nightfall, More varieties than stars, more than The brain can comprehend, so when Detroit chants "FUCK YOU, BRUNSON" At the flopping Knicks point guard, The TV producer hears fines, Fiddles knobs to mute the hollers, but I hear 20,332 people screaming a poem called Love, screaming love in Detroit, Screaming an appreciation for work. Fuck you, we yell, at sweat without tears. Fuck you, we yell, at blood without sweat. Fuck you, we mumble, eyes glaring at the world As we hug ours, as we huddle Streaked in blood and tears After the sweat has dried and we Continue to dream about earning. We wake to work and don't fall. Sometimes we name our sweat Swagger. We'll elbow you with Our chins we hold high. We chant love To those who are with us in a dialect called Detroit where we fuck with love.
October 25, 2025 at 1:53 AM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Goooood morning from the groupchat
My friend saying "Everything is fucked up" and me replying "EVERYTHING"
October 23, 2025 at 2:02 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
This Detroit gym understands that a gym has three (3) proper uses: basketball, basketball, a few jumping jacks, and basketball.
Mural on the wall of a gym my kid is balling in right now at the St. Suzanne Cody Rouge Community Resource Center. It's green with four scenes, three of which are basketball scenes and one is three humanoid shapes in what loosely appears to be jumping jack form.
October 22, 2025 at 11:32 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Oh hell yeah, Paul Zimmer.
Another Place You come to a place in winter woods That seems remembered, a foundation Full of rusty tools, door knobs, dog bones, Peach stones, scissors, where hard winds Blew for years through blackened timbers. Small wings of frost still strive on weeds, But so many things are missing now, Pervasive regret has assumed the place. You feel fine snow flitter down And settle into the ancient residue, Gathering in cockleburs, ear holes, Joints of aspen, sockets of your eyes. Slowly it begins to change you Into something better than yourself.
October 19, 2025 at 3:48 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Last day of fall ball. Re-reading Paul Zimmer this perfect morning. I took a poetry class with Walter Clark in maybe 1993? '94? The last class ended with a read-around. I volunteered to go last, so I could close with "The Poets' Strike." Still love it.
The Poets' Strike On the stroke of this midnight Let us cover our typewriters, Throw down all pens and papers, Build kindling fires in oil drums. Let there be no more poems, Not one more metaphor nor image, No loose nor strict iambics, No passion, anger, laughter. Let no one cheat nor scab, No furtive pecks in notebooks, No secret scribbling in closets, Let us dwell together in a void Removed from beauty and truth. Then let us see what happens, How many trees will blight, How earth wobbles and fractures, Words loosen and fall from dictionaries. People will move through life Like worms swallowing And excreting their tedious passage. They'll beg us for one crippled line, One near rhyme, one feeble dream, And they will be so sorry They will pay and pay and pay. for Rod Jellema Page 91 from crossing to sunlight, selected poems by Paul Zimmer
October 18, 2025 at 12:46 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
They were going to do "6 Over 50" and I was the 6th but they axed it because they went for alliteration instead of assonance.
The headline for the annual "5 Over 50" Poets & Writers article about debut authors who are old as dirt. I'm allowed to make that joke because my debut came out in June about a week before my 52nd birthday.
October 17, 2025 at 5:14 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Very cool premise, too.
From the book's acknowledgements: Finally, I am indebted, of course, to M.G. Kains, whose classic work on small-farm management, Five Acres and Independence (1935), provided the nominal inspiration for this book and whose fifty-two chapter titles have been transplanted to be the titles of these fifty-two poems.
October 12, 2025 at 6:23 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
This weekend's sidelines read was @longrules.bsky.social's Nine Acres. Holy smokes did I ever love this book. Somewhere along the line, I connected with Nathaniel on here, and I'm happy I did. Wonderful book. Worth tracking down, though of course if you live nearby you're welcome to borrow mine.
Cover of the book Nine Acres with a baseball field in the background. Nathaniel Perry's poem "Re-making a Neglected Orchard" It was a good idea, cutting away the vines and ivy, trimming back the chest-high thicket lazy years had let grow here. Though it wasn't for lack of love for the trees, I'd like to point out. Years love trees in a way we can't imagine. They just don't use the fruit like us; they want instead the slant of sun through narrow branches, the buckshot of rain on these old cherries. And we, now that I think on it, want those things too, we just always and desperately want the sugar of the fruit, the best we'll get from this irascible land: a sweetness we can gather for years, new stains staining the stains on our hands.
October 12, 2025 at 6:20 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Unless the city is Fowler, Michigan, I'm guessing that's not accurate, Dan ol' boy.
Screenshot showing the village I grew up near has a population of 1,234.
October 12, 2025 at 2:39 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
Earlier: fall baseball brought to you by the gods
Gorgeous fall trees with the sky behind full of clouds lit by forthcoming sunset. Gorgeous fall trees with the sky behind full of clouds lit by forthcoming sunset.
October 12, 2025 at 3:33 AM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
The moon likes fall ball too.
Moon lingering in the blue western sky over some nice fall foliage in the trees across the road from the baseball field my 15-year-old is playing a game in right now.
October 11, 2025 at 2:15 PM
mitchnobis.bsky.social
More media this week...it's my first review! I don't even know how to summarize and explain this, but my wife grew up in what is essentially America's first subdivision. They have a weekly sub newsletter. A neighborhood resident reviewed my book. This is very cool and a huge honor, for real.
October 10, 2025 at 12:01 AM