diaric, poetry, sonic bullion, station notes

’25 THERE IS NO LIMIT

Hot off the griddle, Auntie Pancake’s poetry and moon are out of bounds and in Gemini. 

Photo by Maria Borisenko on Pexels.com | <<c’est tout en sîrop>>

quick station note

After a useful sojourn to Ghost dot org, bardic bullion has returned to substack.

hahaha. the joys of being dual-minded in a dual season. I am grateful for the Ghost experiment and what it has to offer: a decentralized newsletter platform. Also doesn’t host certain buffoonery that Substack does. But!

I am grateful for the community on Substack I have been able to cultivate, and for the vibrant communities others cultivate there, too. To my subscribers—thank you!!! I deeply appreciate your time and attention and support, and your patience while I experiment.

FYI & for those who are interested in making a newsletter and/or already have one, here are some my trials and errors from my experience with Ghost dot org:

Ghost is not as user friendly: my radio show and mixtape links weren’t working in the newsletter deploys, which is no good since sound and music are such an integral part of my diaries and creations. I like to use a variety of media and Ghost’s capacities and flexibilities were not suited to my needs. The navigation for readers and subscribers was also disappointing, unfortunately.

More important than that—Ghost does not currently offer the vibrant community living and growing on Substack. I repeat myself, but: I am so grateful for my communion with folks. I read and subscribe to many substacks, follow many folks there (and more and more by the week). There are many beloveds and lovely artists and journalists there I love supporting their work and being among them.

Who knows, perhaps I’ll switch again in the future. I am fleetfooted, after all. But for now, I am glad to be back. Love you!


sonic & bardic bullion


It's quieter in my head so far.
plucked your eye out • climbed up that hill to rest.

Who am I with complete rest? Correct • sleep cycles? • avoiding the truth? • my eyes, burned weary • Been dreaming of Grandma’s house • and her son called begging, • Save my life.

fresh from the vortex of devotion, soul oriented toward obsession, quest is consummation • when the smoke finally clears • my lungs, filler up • like John, I am a word slut, gimme that fucking word search and ooh! the fun I'll have—

Enough Preamble.

Yearning away • I wanna give Megan... pause • Next door, the shepherd • fixing your juicer.

Baby, what happened to you? • Happens to all of us, mutation’s painful • less so than nostalgia? • Honey, let the satire strike you • let the funny hit • too close to home.

When it’s false flags • close to home, • soldiers, spies dragged up
category is: diplomatic realness
category is: left their hoods at the cleaners, so masks'll have to do
category is: secret police & genocidaire
don't worry, shitbirds, we recognize you anyway. • blink, chicken! blink!

obedience is most dangerous, most violent.

People, let's commotion. • <<comfort the afflicted, afflict the comfortable.>> • 
that nonviolence'll get you killed.

Grandma said, I’ll smash you! • Scotch on her rocker, Naples in her blood • Dal fiume al mare, Palestina sarà libera. • I sit, I swim in all the rivers my mothers gave me, give me, keep me • alive again and again and again • morning

when the baby is in her Nirvana era, led herself there to drink the blooms • what else is there but singing • singing with her • The heart of joy.

watching the mothers take down mirrors • portals, you know • who knows who watches • who is outside • now we know

before the ingress • the tide • my last question: what were those birds about • that crow flying • bumped his head in my window—twice!—looking for • my orange cat watching • gold eyes sweet honey mischief • slitted like a snake,
takes after his mother.

My last look: scissors and color flying, douse me • i'm going for rogue.


mixtape

Gemini saison ‘25 time capsule, for your listening pleasure:

This beautiful spring shelf mushroom print featured in the mixtape cover art is by amazing artist Gabi Guerra, and used here with her permission. Thank you, Gabi 💕 Please check out her wonders and shop at malahoraart.com


from the archives

May-June diaries out of the past for your reading and listening pleasure:


meanwhile

Royal star Fomalhaut • 2025 Finals • Mad Max interviews • I really miss MJ. • Carême and Stick • ReLiving Single, a joyous ritual • Reveling in the memories of Sly Stone and Brian Wilson • A gal who truly gets it. • Rest in merciful, loving peace, Parnia Abbasi, and too many others. 

& a recipe

Thank you to my family, who shared with me their friend’s 1:1:4 for homemade lemonade: 

  • 1 c lemon juice 
  • 1 c simple syrup 
  • 4 c water 

Add fruit and herbs as you like; it’s gonna be a scorcher 😉 

Stay wavy, love,

Kate

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diaric, poetry, sonic bullion

’25 Devotions

Design for a ceiling with an oval compartment containing an Allegory of Dawn. The scene is surrounded by an elaborately decorated frame with a variant for the right side.
Design for a Ceiling with the Allegory of Dawn 
Anonymous, Italian, 17th century Italian Anonymous, French, 17th century French | Credit: The Met



let's dance raw
Healing is fucking
exhausting.
It’s lay down your swords time,

No budget, no limit
ripe moments
Safe to be fertile;
Darlings, we are
Not property.

envisioning love that never speaks over
my songs on the radio,
rather, love's attunement casket sharp.

Speaking of love, watching you
question your greenthumb,
your withering distressed me;
so do the pigs,
so many more out there lately

voix magnetique
<<ce tout en sîrop.>>

it's beautiful here
learning I am capable of amends

hardly think straight • yet breathing, ink furious • tulipomania and <<Mommy, I love you>> with a tableful of flowers • "Violet" prophecy on the cans and The Neapolitan Quartet

Lesson: always bring a snack.
Nostalgia: red leather interior woody

wake up, be cringe. • the world is full of sufferers filled with unlived life. it's a poverty of spirit • you don't want no problems, you just talk like you do • lilac air in the yard and school bell bings down the road • It was my birthday again. I feel fortunate saying, "I'm still alive." Often enough, it is 1989 all over again • VHS Japan ジャパン 1997 • everytime i choose softness over suffering i surrender to giving myself back what I learned to steal

inside: coming home to yourself, keeping, going gently.
outside: the earthquake.

This last day is full of reminders;
the book says, Just be.

The sensuous pleasure of giving
yourself permission from guilt.

out of the past [diary archive]:


WKDC Radio, The Bard:


Without your readership, my art would be incomplete.

Thank you for your time and attention.

Stay wavy, love always,
Kate

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