I have indeed poem’d. All over the floor. substack.com/home/post/p-...

Digital rework of a linocut corn maiden I carved. ‘Crying the neck’ is a harvest tradition where the last sheaf of wheat is venerated with song by the local community and turned into corn dolly to be displayed in a prominent place in a village, representing the end the harvest cycle.

See, this kind of caper is the whole point of the country for me. The world cup is nice and all, but this is where we shine, this is our world-beating big league: a camp political shambles in a heatwave. Now the new right have to face off with a bin in 36 degrees. This is my England baby.

Don’t want to get my hopes up but I have a gut feeling Binface taking Clacton could reset the timeline

The question for Nigel Farage now is whether it's less embarrassing to un-resign and claim that was an establishment stitchup, or to spend a month competing with a bin. Neither is exactly a *great* option. Neither solves his ongoing scandals. And it's a mess entirely of his own making.

‘Yeah I’m getting back on the apps’ I say, re-downloading Pray As You Go

HYDRATION BREAK

SKULL OF THOMAS AQUINAS: TAKE A LEFT NOW PRIEST: No, the GPS says we have to keep going— SKULL: I KNOW A SHORTCUT PRIEST: Do you remember the last ti— SKULL: FOR THOSE WITH FAITH, NO EVIDENCE IS NECESSARY; FOR THOSE WITHOUT IT, NO EVIDENCE WILL SUFFICE

Sometimes, God gives you *exactly* what you were sure you wanted just to hear ‘you were right’ six months later. God likes a ‘you were right’ as much as the next guy it seems.

Ad Rock: you can disagree with the current All: POPE MCA: but if you push his buttons then you’re a All: DOPE Mike D: ordain yourself a bishop and you’re All: SCHISMATIC Ad Rock: excommunication is All: AUTOMATIC

I wish I could stop reading it as Doctor Congo.

Watching the unfolding schism of the Catholic Church the way people watch the World Cup

WELCOME TO SCHISM WATCH 2026 WITH CLAIRE

The beginning of Matthew's Gospel in gold and silver on purple-stained parchment München, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, BSB Clm 23631; Purple Gospels; 1st quarter of the 9th century; Augsburg (?); f.25r

The sycamore and I continue our tentative new friendship, the moon is swelling to strawberry fullness. Tomorrow, if it comes for it is not promised, I will do the 2025 expenditure report for people who still start the day with plainchant. Life is equal arms marvellous and strange.

Power Lines Drawing #80 (Detroit, Southwest) Original drawing for sale at my store 8" x 10" black ink on paper $200 marcusmerritt.bigcartel.com/product/powe...

I was prepared for a lot of the signs of aging, the knees popping like breaking twigs, the greys in the attic *and* the games room, but no one told me I would catch sign of my naked elbow like a dead sphynx cat in a changing room mirror my god.

I love when doctors say "avoid stress" like I can just unsubscribe from economy and become a decorative gargoyle

There are days in the archive that…exceed expectations. ‘Whose hair is this, boss?’ is a question that should be asked fewer times than I have to ask it.

Another day in my life confirming God gives His weirdest battles to His most disorientated soldier.

Tough one this. Planet not being on fire, or crappy AI “art” advertising the local soft play centre. 🤔

plague of one large frog

I’m getting to know my neighbour better. As the sky tears itself apart, the black book of the sycamore tree is unusually open. We are both like kids thrilling to the storm, waving to the great powers as they pass over.

A mari places the sun - Hope everyone has a blessed Solstice

Today is full of magics. You don’t need to read about others experiences, you don’t need to capture your own to share. Today, just bathe in it all. Harvest your own omens, revel in whatever blessings the day offers. Refuse to be part of the mediated spectacle. Find your own primal wonder. #Solstice

Shift drink: Reflecting Pool 1oz rum 1oz mezcal .75oz lime .75oz honey barspoon matcha muddled mint

being a poet is weird because you can be hyper focused on the philosophical or elbow deep in despair’s umbra but there’s still always a chance an ape will just show up wearing your father’s hat

My world, my Earth is a ruin. A planet spoiled by the human species. We multiplied and fought and gobbled until there was nothing left, and then we died. We controlled neither appetite nor violence; we did not adapt. We destroyed ourselves. But we destroyed the world first.

Two very particular human humiliations are trying to eat long-leaved salad without looking like a challenged mammoth and the other is running for a bus in new shoes.

In less than half a minute, this entire thing happened.

Imagine getting my info in a data breach. Imagine rubbing your hands with glee and then realising you have harvested a sad Catholic with hepatitis, only good at melancholy poems, one-sided affection, and being in my overdraft.

At the end of the term I asked my college creative wriing students to submit anonymous thoughts on AI. No real surprises: Mood ranges from resignation to despair, capitulation from embittered erosion of standards to total, feelings of betrayal from deep to furious. 1/

Nightmare for a friend of mine in London. Please share.

Anyone seeing my Pinterest right now is watching me speedrun the regular stages of grief and also audaciously invent a new one.

Actual LOL

Where Spain?

First time doing wedding flowers and not a total disaster actually

When something’s funny because it’s true (I work in a friary)

we’re so desperate for good news we've accepted the scaffolding as our wire mother

bilbo backrooms

New piece of flash fiction titled ‘Beeswing’. Thanks for reading! kieranstorieswriter.wordpress.com/2026/06/03/o...

My absolute favourite new phishing email intro

Water bottle mold makes *you* sick Jessica it gives *me* a higher understanding of the Book of Enoch.

‘Black Fox’ - double page spread. Painted, engraved mouth blown stained glass. Appears in our book, Wild Folk, written by Jackie Morris, illuminated in stained glass by me, published by @chelseagreenbooks.bsky.social Buy it from your local indie bookshop.

that meeting was really getting heated thank god I broke the tension with that saxaphone solo

To our dismay, the artist and author Marjane Satrapi has passed away. As she wrote, ordinary Americans and Iranians have more in common with each other than we do with either of our governments, which have far too much in common with each other. We honor her memory and oppose the war.

Strike it down in the name of the Pope!