H. P. Friendcraft
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starcravingmad.bsky.social
H. P. Friendcraft
@starcravingmad.bsky.social
270 followers 150 following 410 posts
Posting a poem a week to help us through our Interesting Times ~ also weird science, history, politics, tt/rpg games ~ don't follow me, follow @greenmtgirl instead ~ bruorton.dreamwidth.org ~ warlockofagnesi.tumblr.com ~ he/him/late for dinner
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starcravingmad.bsky.social
H. P. Friendcraft @starcravingmad.bsky.social · Jan 13
starting every day like
[enter Dionysos] Dionysos: Okay ladies, up we get, no more crouching, no more sobbing.
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
melstone.xyz
😈😈😈
November 7, 2025 at 10:19 PM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
Come here, little one...
All Hallows By Louise Glück Even now this landscape is assembling. The hills darken. The oxen sleep in their blue yoke, the fields having been picked clean, the sheaves bound evenly and piled at the roadside among cinquefoil, as the toothed moon rises: This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence. And the wife leaning out the window with her hand extended, as in payment, and the seeds distinct, gold, calling Come here Come here, little one And the soul creeps out of the tree.
October 31, 2025 at 8:27 PM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
Time for spooky season poems.
The Vampire Madison Julius Cawein 1865 – 1914 A lily in a twilight place? A moonflow’r in the lonely night?— Strange beauty of a woman's face Of wildflow’r-white! The rain that hangs a star’s green ray Slim on a leaf-point’s restlessness, Is not so glimmering green and gray As was her dress. I drew her dark hair from her eyes, And in their deeps beheld a while Such shadowy moonlight as the skies Of Hell may smile. She held her mouth up redly wan, And burning cold,—I bent and kissed Such rosy snow as some wild dawn Makes of a mist. God shall not take from me that hour, When round my neck her white arms clung! When ‘neath my lips, like some fierce flower, Her white throat swung! Or words she murmured while she leaned! Witch-words, she holds me softly by,— The spell that binds me to a fiend Until I die.
October 14, 2025 at 2:37 AM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
Let me remember.
September Midnight By Sara Teasdale Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer. Let me remember you, voices of little insects, Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters, Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us, Snow-hushed and heavy. Over my soul murmur your mute benediction, While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest, As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to, Lest they forget them.
September 19, 2025 at 1:52 AM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
Mary Oliver.

The black honey of summer.
ripe blackberries hanging from a blackberry cane, with ferns in the background August by Mary Oliver When the blackberries hang swollen in the woods, in the brambles nobody owns, I spend all day among the high branches, reaching my ripped arms, thinking of nothing, cramming the black honey of summer into my mouth; all day my body accepts what it is. In the dark creeks that run by there is this thick paw of my life darting among the black bells, the leaves; there is this happy tongue.
August 11, 2025 at 9:10 PM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
You could say anything.

Poem by Charles O. Hartman.
Ticket I love the moment at the ticket window—he says— when you are to say the name of your destination, and realize that you could say anything, the man at the counter will believe you, the woman at the counter would never say No, that isn't where you're going, you could buy a ticket for one place and go to another, less far along the same line. Suddenly you would find yourself —he says—in a locality you've never seen before, where no one has ever seen you and you could say your name was anything you like, nobody would say No, that isn't you, this is who you are. It thrills me every time.
August 4, 2025 at 6:23 PM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
This cleft body.
Peach By Dorianne Laux I kneel to the ground fall peach, its russet belly, its honey streaks, touch its new tough skin, run my thumb along its deep, sexy cleft. I pluck another from a low branch, tug it down into captivity like an animal caught in a bramble, scooped into my arms that open to return it to the wide field of my cutting board where I lift the knife, slice around the stony pit, its purple edges bleeding into the gold flesh in a starburst, and like a star becoming into silence, miniscule pulse of living light from this distance, has been making itself over and over from the fire within it, like the sound hole of a violin that welcomes any dark music. To think we can eat a sunset, convicted, as we are, to the mud of this earth, knees dark with dirt, hands sticky with essence, to think I too am here in this cleft body, a being split into parts and seamed back together, swollen with desire, hungry for the sun.
July 23, 2025 at 4:10 AM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
ryanlcooper.com
the rate of progress in battery tech is *insane.* prices down 40% and space efficiency up by ~half in ONE YEAR www.volts.wtf/p/solarstora...
Solar+storage is so much farther along than you think
On how plummeting battery prices make 24/7 solar power a reality today.
www.volts.wtf
July 21, 2025 at 2:17 PM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
We are so busy.
Tomatoes by Joy Sullivan I waited so long for love and suddenly, here it is standing in the garden, hands full of heirlooms hot from the sun. Soon we’ll make a supper of them. Salted slabs between slices of bread. Your beard silvers. My hips ripen. The mail piles up. Phone calls go unanswered. Forgive us. Our mouths are full of tomatoes. We are so busy being small and hungry and alive.
July 15, 2025 at 7:55 PM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
maggie and milly and molly and may E. E. Cummings maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach (to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea
July 8, 2025 at 8:23 PM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
greenmtgirl.bsky.social
Bill McKibben said something similar a lot of years ago (15, maybe?) at Vermont's diocesan convention: build community. Vibrant communities will do better than isolated wealthy suburbs.

Local food, mutual aid, water protection, the bonds of local civic life - these are where resilience lie.
July 6, 2025 at 7:56 PM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
greenmtgirl.bsky.social
I think the fact that I'm now full of fighting spirit is a sign that acceptance and grief are enlivening, not deadening.

So let's fight for mitigation. Let's fight for the fascists' overthrow.

And let's pour energy into local communities and looking out for each other.
Screenshot from the Suzuki interview: "Governments will not be able to respond on the scale or speed that is needed for these emergencies, so Finland is telling their citizens that they’re going to be at the front line of whatever hits and better be sure you’re ready to meet it. Find out who on your block can’t walk because you’re going to have to deal with that. Who has wheelchairs? Who has fire extinguishers? Where is the available water? Do you have batteries or generators? Start assessing the roots of escape. You’re going to have to inventory your community, and that’s really what we have to start doing now."
July 6, 2025 at 7:54 PM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
greenmtgirl.bsky.social
This, combined with the report of the Deep Western Boundary Current reversal, strikes me as correct. Our political, legal, and economic systems have not budged.

This is not giving up: "The units of survival are going to be local communities, so I’m urging local communities to get together."
July 6, 2025 at 7:32 PM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
uncleduke1969.bsky.social
“Very funny, Jesus. Give it back.”
Driver’s perspective of a dashboard missing the steering wheel.
July 1, 2025 at 5:41 PM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
terriwindling.bsky.social
Here's another beautiful essay by Potawatomi author & botanist Robin Wall Kimmerer in @emergencemagazine.bsky.social, a meditation on life, death, and the cycles of nature.

emergencemagazine.org/essay/becomi...
Becoming Earth – Robin Wall Kimmerer
Wandering among the ancient decomposing cedar trees of the Andrews Experimental Forest in Oregon, Potawatomi botanist and author Robin Wall Kimmerer wonders what they might teach us about the nature o...
emergencemagazine.org
July 1, 2025 at 3:46 PM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
Poem for the week.
The Year of the Goldfinches By Ada Limón There were two that hung and hovered by the mud puddle and the musk thistle. Flitting from one splintered fence post to another, bathing in the rainwater’s glint like it was a mirror to some other universe where things were more acceptable, easier than the place I lived. I’d watch for them: the bright peacocking male, the low-watt female, on each morning walk, days spent digging for some sort of elusive answer to the question my curving figure made. Later, I learned that they were a symbol of resurrection. Of course they were, my two yellow-winged twins feasting on thorns and liking it.
June 30, 2025 at 3:04 PM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
greenmtgirl.bsky.social
This, like, the 3rd time I've cried at my desk today. But in a good way, this time!
payoub.bsky.social Phillip Ayoub @payoub.bsky.social · Jun 28
Absolutely incredible turnout for Budapest Pride! So proud of all the organizers, including some old friends, who estimate hundreds of thousands— major embarrassment to Orban
June 28, 2025 at 11:38 PM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
gracienlucy.bsky.social
Text message conversation: "Is the fall of Rome comparable to the current situation in the United States?" "No, Rome had good roads."
June 28, 2025 at 3:22 PM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
I... no words. Breathtaking. Is this art, actually?
atrupar.com Aaron Rupar @atrupar.com · Jun 26
Leavitt without a trace of irony: "When you have a totalitarian regime, you have to save face. I think any common sense, open-minded person knows the truth about the precision strikes on Saturday night. They were wildly successful."
June 26, 2025 at 6:02 PM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
simeonthefool.bsky.social
Hot damn.
mcsweeneys.net McSweeney's @mcsweeneys.net · Jun 16
A large pot sits in plain sight. There’s a frog in it.

Every day, Leader announces his plans to boil the frog. His campaign slogan was “BOIL THAT FROG.”

He has already made at least one run on the stove.

A man stirs the pot with a large stick. “It’s a metaphor,” he says.
Signs the Frog Has Been Boiled
A large pot sits in plain sight. There’s a frog in it. Every day, Leader announces his plans to boil the frog. His campaign slogan was “BOIL THAT F...
buff.ly
June 18, 2025 at 5:16 PM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
simeonthefool.bsky.social
Read the whole thing— good political satire is extremely hard to find and this absolutely sticks the landing.
June 18, 2025 at 5:21 PM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
badprobably.bsky.social
Gain advantage whenever you feel a fleeting moment of hope in a life beset by horrors on all sides.
June 18, 2025 at 5:39 AM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
Crivvens!
greenmtgirl.bsky.social Killian @greenmtgirl.bsky.social · Jun 14
Has anyone seen a Wee Free Men sign today? Because I'm seriously considering "Nae Kings!"
June 15, 2025 at 2:23 AM
starcravingmad.bsky.social
Reporting in from our local No Kings rally today in northern New England, I'd guess ~250 people lining both sides of main street! Excellent turnout, and a lot of support from folks driving through.
People line both sides of a main street, holding flags and homemade signs. my hand covers several stenciled letters of a No Smoking sign on a concrete barrier so that it reads "NO KING" People line the side of the street, packed together, holding signs and flags, fading into blurry obscurity. In the foreground, the only legible sign reads "No dictators in the USA." A man strides the edge of a street lined with people. Three legible signs read "A toupee is not a crown," No Kings, No Dictators, No Oligarchy," and "Trump can oligargle my balls."
June 15, 2025 at 1:58 AM
Reposted by H. P. Friendcraft
stavvers.bsky.social
ea nasir is back baby awooo
Business insider screenshot: A major commodity trader received containers full of painted rocks instead of the $36 million shipment of copper it paid for
June 11, 2025 at 4:58 PM