Memory (Online) I know I checked the box And yet I know that you will not Remember my ID #EnglishHaiku

Late Night (Posting) The night is clearly done And yet I cannot help but feel The morning comes too soon #EnglishHaiku

Why does a poet write? It is because they care about The words that they deploy #EnglishHaiku

A poet does not claim To speak the truth to everyone Except of course, she does #EnglishHaiku

The AI bot completes But it cannot initiate A form it has not seen #EnglishHaiku

Imagine a time traveler visiting John Roberts in like 1992 and telling him “You’re going to become Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and your legacy will be that you gave Donald Trump more power than any other American in history. Yes, that Donald Trump. He won’t have changed.”

Seeing my name in a crossword puzzle is one of those things that occasionally reminds me that, oh yeah, my life has gone down a *wildly* unexpected path

Not for nothing, but if Rian Johnson wants to do an episode of Poker Face about a bar trivia team taking things way too seriously, I’m available

Being famous is so weird. Like, in a certain sense, this is an obituary for one of my professional peers

Sometimes I like to get on here and post something innocuous like “trans people are not, generally speaking, sex criminals,” just so I can watch a bunch of British people with blue checkmarks embarrass themselves

Oh, wow, fascinating, most people in prison are there because they committed crimes. Thank you. Next?

Hand to god, I have not “wanked,” in your words, in at least a month. (I honestly don’t remember the last time I did). And yet I continue to identify as trans. *You* may get off on the idea of freakishly abnormal, perverted trans people, “Miss Handle,” but I in fact do not