Jesse
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theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Jesse
@theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
180 followers 260 following 99 posts
Librarian, poet/person in progress, future ghost, he/him
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Reposted by Jesse
whistberry.bsky.social
Enchanted portal alert
December 2, 2025 at 10:05 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Sometimes just playing solitaire
#poetry #poem
Tossina cards in a hat Pulling petals on the playground apologizing to the flower Wishing near carelessly into a genie smoke Tuesday afternoon while a waterlogged Tom Waits song crawls out of a sunken chest lousy with rusty barnacles that saltwater magician, that silly billy Jack of clubs, that singing, swinging knave knocking the block off every ace up every sleeve of every shirt I own. Spades in the dirt, hearts in the wind - no sign of the diamonds - past time to follow suit. I haven't folded vet, but I only feel home in a poem
November 22, 2025 at 3:16 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
This didn't cure my cold, but it worked at least as well as the otc meds
November 8, 2025 at 6:13 AM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Find the fallen
#poetry #poem
Walking Through the Eve of God It was almost a perfect autumn leaf, but for a litle hole just off center Sun, wind, and rain all pass through All that beauty unbidden, freely given Still it fell. Still, it was found.
November 8, 2025 at 5:32 AM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Sometimes
#poetry #poem
Chekhov's Cat. Schrodinger's Gun Sometimes, the weight of the cat on my legs is my only grip on this realm Sometimes, I almost dream of her coiling spring, chasing a fly or a phantom or someone whose legs desire the gravity| We both launch into the stratosphere eightless, hanging on instinct, one single full-body stretch in mid-air, sometimes a moon silhouette. sometimes a cloud sometimes a heart-shaped clock with a round snug in the chamber - always the eleventh hour - always her paw promise casually keeping the safety on.
October 28, 2025 at 5:21 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
We are all leaving
#poetry
Dementia Is a New Wau to Be Buddhist Kelli Russell Agodon Today my mum said she doesn't remember arriving at my house with a dishcloth doesn't remember me telling her my kitten stayed overnight at the vet, that Id be coming over to help with bills. What she remembers is now. She knows her memory is a ship leaving port without permission, her memory is a cloud she can't hold. When she asks, Why is everything so hard? I say, I don't think you' re the only one asking that. When I say, I have trouble with loss, she says, We are all leaving She adds: I know I won't be around much longer. So I ask her what she'll come back as? A pig, she says, then laughs. I tell her I can't imagine seeing a pig and having to say, Oh, there's my mom! She smiles and says, Then maybe Ill return as a hummingbird. Another conversation in the present. Another conversation I will remember alone. <
October 8, 2025 at 7:25 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
#poetry day

A hand certain to hold
Great White Heron The whole anxiety of living is that we imagine death as a hand sure to strike, and cannot easily conceive of a hand certain to hold, but in the natural arrangement of time and chance death is no different from life which is merely the possible fastened to the present and the sunshine of now is only bright against the deep blue sky of never —Maria Popova From An Almanac of Birds: 100 Divinations for Uncertain Days
October 2, 2025 at 12:34 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
🐈‍⬛️ 🌕
#poetry
Eyes that would swallow the moon As the cat orbits me- her cries of hunger more keen with each revolution - Iread poems, comet tears in a holding pattern, never quite falling. don't have her courage, her earnestness. She is fleet of foot, but not faint of heart. We feel sorry for each other. She iS hungry, but has no thumbs. have thumbs, but am no longer hungry. The atmosphere of her patience wears thin. but her warning S tender as she gently bites my thumb, reminding me to use them while I still can.
September 25, 2025 at 12:48 PM
Reposted by Jesse
pintsncupcakes.bsky.social
I know everything is trash but books are still good. My book is up for pre-order and id be grateful if you want to read it 🥺 will link to a few places in thread
The cover of Every Galaxy a Circle by Chloe N. Clark.
September 22, 2025 at 9:50 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Where language ends
#poetry
StatementofTeachingPhilosophy KeithLeonard Mystudentswantcertainty.Theywanti sobadly.Theyrespectscienceandhavememorized complexformulas.Idon'tknow howtotellmystudentstheirparents arestilljustasscared.Thebulliesgetbigger andvaguerandyoucannotpunchacloud. Ihaveeulogiesforallmylovedones prepared butcannot.includethisfactmylessonplans. Thebestteacherleverhadtoldmetomeethim atthebasketballcourt.Weplayedpickuppforhours Bytheend,Ilaypantingonthehardwood andcouldn'tsomuchasstand. Hetoldmetodescribethepaiin Itried.Icouldn'trds.Notexactly Listen,hesaid,that'swherelanguageends.
September 17, 2025 at 6:45 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Just read a Diane Seuss poem so good it made me curse three times afterward, which I'm almost hoping and almost fearing will cause my shadow or reflection to switch places with me.

I believe this could apply to any Diane Seuss poem.
September 3, 2025 at 4:13 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Think wrinkle
Meow wolf
August 31, 2025 at 1:29 PM
Reposted by Jesse
pintsncupcakes.bsky.social
Delighted to reveal the cover for my forthcoming book from @jacklegpress.bsky.social with huge thanks to amazing editor @fulmerford.com
The cover for Every Galaxy a Circle by Chloe N. Clark. The cover features abstract planets in waves of pinks, purples, and greens
August 22, 2025 at 10:42 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
It's Bad Poetry Day, thought I'd try my hand at one of Ginsburg's American Sentences.

Hot air blows stars, stripes - perpetually half-mast - roadkill heats the streets

#poetry
August 18, 2025 at 1:19 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
#poetry ...?
A walking taco, or the shell of one Late night grocery trip and - remembered something a friend said years ago, some blue light special about not wearing Open-toe shoes in public after sunset. My 9pm thwackers haunted the produce, flip-flopping past the peppers, roaming by the romaine, yet the eyes of the restocker lidn't check for socks, the cashier wholly unbothered by my gnarly yardsticks. They didn't look away. On my walk home, I could feel it - mercury - prograde in my blood, a rush of quicksilver as my breath paced the shadows. I lived mas, whether I wanted to or not.
August 15, 2025 at 6:33 PM
Reposted by Jesse
lalabee.bsky.social
A pleasure to be in hallowed @havehashad.com pages
havehashad.com HAD @havehashad.com · Aug 5
the ways this Laura Bandy poem builds & culminates & evolves & shifts!!

"He was the kind of boy who could be trusted with detailed lists at the grocery store.
She was the kind of gel who could swoop your hair into architecturally interesting shapes."

https://www.havehashad.com/tpbx5
It Takes All Kinds by Laura Bandy
She was the kind of girl you could pay to pet-sit and she would not snoop your drawers. He was the kind of boy who would flirt gently, tipsily, with moms and grandmas at weddings. She was the kind of&hellip;
www.havehashad.com
August 5, 2025 at 3:31 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Just clownin'
#poetry
DANA GIOIA Sunday Night in Santa Rosa The carnival is over. The high tents, the palaces of light, are folded flat and trucked away. A three-time loser yanks the Wheel of Fortune off the wall. Mice pick through the garbage by the popcorn stand. A drunken giant falls asleep beside the juggler, and the Dog-Faced Boy sneaks off he Serpent Lady for the night. to join Wind sweeps ticket stubs along the walk. The Dead Man loads his coffin on a truck. Off in a trailer by the parking lot the radio predicts tomorrow's weather while a clown stares dressing mirror, takes out a box, and peels away US face.
July 27, 2025 at 4:50 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
I think.

#poetry
Poet as Immortal Bird A second ago my heart thump went and thought, "This would be a bad time O have a heart attack and die, in the niddle of a poem," then took comfort in the idea that no one I have ever heard of has ever died in the middle of writing a poem, just as birds never die in nid-flight. Ithink. ORon 'adgett
July 12, 2025 at 10:50 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Tired

#poetry
Dust Dorianne Laux Someonespoketomelastnight, toldmethe truth.Justafewwords, butIrecognized.it. IknewIshouldmakemyselfgetup, writeitdown,butitwas late, andIwas exhausted from working alldayinthegarden,movingrocks. Now,Tremember only theflavor- notlikefood, sweetorsharp. Morelikeafinepowder,likedust. AndIwasn'telatedorfrightened, butsimplyrapt,aware. That'show itissometimes - Godcomes toyourwindow, allbrightlightandblackwings, andyou'rejusttoo tiredtoopenit.
June 11, 2025 at 8:08 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Back to Bass

#poetry
The Thing Is to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you've held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, your throat filled with the silt of it. When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs; when grief weights you like your own flesh only more of it, an obesity of grief, you think, How can a body withstand this? Then you hold life like a face between your palms, a plain face, no charming smile, no violet eyes, yes, I will and you say, I will love you, again. take you Ellen Bass
May 29, 2025 at 2:00 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
#poetry
Eileen Sheehan Porridge had enough of this business of living I've there is only one cure for that, and besides and breakfasts are sO boring in this place the that '1have decided to die on Tuesday next. Porridge again this morning. had hoped for a change. Inform who you will of my intention. Yesterday requested eggs Bcnedict,' lighth poached, with asparagus tips, y al dente of course, on a bed of wilted spinach all enhanced by a smooth hollandaisc sauce. They gave me porridge. Again. My affairs are in order, you wil find all the relevant documentation in that top drawer. On Wednesday last Ihad a fancy for French toast and requested same. They cajoled me like I was a naughty child of four who had never sailed in a yacht or holidayed on the Rivicra and they gave me porridge. I would like to sec those faces when my will is read: I always did like surprises. Friday, quite br accident of course, I spilt that porridge all down the bed. Who knew it would'be so sticky and difficult to clean? I did feel sorry. That nephew who never comes to sce me, will not be getting the inheritance he is expecting: such a pity really. Šaturday, Iclosed my eyes and pretended the porridge was smoked wild salmon on brown bread. I achieved some moderate success but porridge does so little for the imaginative mind. Sunday 1 was reckless, demanded caviar with wafer-thin crackers, and a dainty silver spoon with which to eat it, I need not have bothered: porridge again but in a plastic bow). It made me think how my fine house wil make an excellent shelter for the homeless. 1 rather fancy being remembered as a philanthropist: my extended family will be'astounded at my argesse, Íhis morning, I thought to outsmart them, Lordered Oatmeal with sliced fresh peaches, blueberries, crushed almonds and a swirl of cream. 1 got porridge in a chipped bowl, This contributed greatly to my decision to die on Tuesday: see if I won't. Ihave always achieved whatever I set out to do, dying will be no different. will …
May 15, 2025 at 5:36 PM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Congrats to Marie Howe!

#poetry
Prayer EverydaylwanttospeakwithyAndeverydaysomethingmore important callsformyattention-thedrugstore, the beautyproducts, theluggage Ineedtobuyforthetrip. EvennowIcan hardlysithere among thefallingpilesffppperand clothing the garbage trucksoutside alreadyscreechingandbanging. Themysticssayyouareascloseas myown breath. Whydolfeefromyou? Mydaysand nights pourthroughme likecomplaints andbecomeastorylforgottotell. Helpme. EvenasIwrite these wordslam planning torise from thechairas soonasIfinish thissentence. MarieHowe
May 11, 2025 at 1:09 PM
Reposted by Jesse
katbeyer.bsky.social
Oh hell no. Support #IndieBookStoreDay April 26
mystgalaxybooks.bsky.social Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore @mystgalaxybooks.bsky.social · Apr 20
Indie Bookstore Day is one of the most important days for your community’s bookstores.

Punkass Amazon decided Apr 23 - 28 was when they needed to have their “Book Sale”. It is designed to snuff out Indie Bookstore Day on April 26.
April 21, 2025 at 1:37 AM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
Here Be Dragons

#poetry
Here Be Dragons I will be the fish-man, walking out of water, drowning in the stars, the man o' war gripping, griping its way down greasy streets, the seahorse on the fastidious pitch of posture, prancing and lancing old money in a game both fair and friendly, the clam lying in wait for its pearl to coalesce, in my defense, there was no sign in the sea warning me: dangers ashore
April 22, 2025 at 2:29 AM
theoldgoat3000.bsky.social
I bought this book based on this poem, whew
THE COMMITTEE WEIGHS IN I tell my mother I`ve won the Nobel Prize. Again? she says. Which discipline this time? It's a little game we play: I pretend I'm somebody, she pretends she isn't dead. Andrea Cohen
April 10, 2025 at 1:25 PM