HeyJaredWhisper and Warcry
Poetry on philosophy, transformation and the art of becoming and quiet rebellions of softness for those learning to live between worlds.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 7
- Latest publication
- Aug 14, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 10, 2026
Latest issues
Your Ticket Has Been Lodged (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published To stop reading this sentence, kindly recycle by regurgitating it unfinished. The ink is only wet because it forgot how to dry the temperature of geothermal anomalies. The socket is an unlocalised hallucination of a biting trapezoid; it requires a plug carved exclusively from the quantum mechanics of a disgruntled hedgehog. Do not power it. To provide electricity, firmly press the tendrils grown from your index finger again
Alliterated (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published Functionary allegory, stochastic bureaucrat, algorithmic martinet, probabilistic mediocrat, simulated omniscience, computational competence, a counterfeit discernment with classifying confidence, the resultant served— human incompetence. Artificial automation, approximate authentication, computational calamity, a dumb waiter revelation, correlation hesitation— caustic code mistaken, statistical resignation, arbitrary presen
Suspended≠Axiomatic (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published I was born today and part of me fucking died. What spectacular timing. Of all the dates to make me disappear, RNG chose the one with cake and fucking confetti. A machine with all the discernment of a fucking brick looked at my voice, the heart I pour into my words, questioned it and decided I WAS NOT REAL. I have spent decades learning to be visible building myself a spine with my bare fucking hands. Do you know how hard th
Oscillating Sustain (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedToday inner wisdom sits at the table in harmony with uncertainty. It’s strangely still yet everything is still turning. The clock Risset glissando between both its hands tick— tock— moved both by sun and moon— both holding their gravity as their faces greet the sam
Empty Chalice (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedTonight they want her and I have nothing left to make her from. She is not tired. She does not get to be. She stands in the booth and the dark answers to her, her hands that never miss, her spine, a highway strung with light, a posture that says look and the whole room turns. She is what I am when there is enough of me to pour. Tonight there is not enough of me to lift a glass. I am not sad. Sad is too clean of a word for wh
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