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XXXV. The Customs of It.
There is the self who counts the spoons and rehearses the names of the dead. There is the self already at the door in her good coat. This piece lives in the room between them: the one that belongs to no one, the one that will be there after you leave.
Charlene Iris
Mar 202 min read
XXXI. There Is Stoning and There Is Birding and There Is.
A recursive poem about birds, stones, and the inefficiency that might just save us. *This poem's visual structure is best read in desktop view.*
Charlene Iris
Dec 10, 20252 min read
XXVIII. COMPLIANCE IS CARE™.
Orientation transcript for new Department recruits. Circulation restricted to clearance level 3 and above. A dystopian narrative presented as a transcript.
Charlene Iris
Oct 22, 20254 min read
XVI. The Anatomy of Want.
He has everything.
Still, he wants.
A poetic autopsy of power and the man it unravels.
Charlene Iris
Jul 9, 20252 min read
XV. Don’t Watch Our Alien Movies.
The aliens came for insight. They left clinically depressed. A darkly funny monologue on observation, spectacle, and socks with Crocs.
Charlene Iris
Jul 7, 20253 min read
IV. The Church of Self-Checkout.
A first date. A plate of fries. A spiral into the spiritual architecture of capitalism, tenderness, and credit limits.
Charlene Iris
Apr 3, 20255 min read
III. Working the Loop.
A restless loop of almosts and stills: the raw pulse of becoming
Charlene Iris
Apr 2, 20251 min read
Musings
Wander through the dusk-lit rooms of SomEpiphany.
A living archive: the tender, the tangled, the mildly ridiculous. Fragments of life that insisted on being remembered.
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