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邰慈睿 / Hugh Tate

邰慈睿 / Hugh Tate

Hey! I've gone by many names. My passions are paleontology and biology, visual and performing arts, literature, etc. I'll be posting poetry and art and occasional longer reflections, but that's mainly Gabe's thing. To you, I'll be 邰慈睿 or Hugh.

📍 Mentally In 苏州

《忆苦思甜》/ "Bittersweet"

The salmon twilight glimmer fades From windowsills sticky with oil, As memories blink in her gaze. For dimmer shades, free to moil, Wake to trounce aft the day's toil. She takes a drink from her own bowl, A dish stained red with others' hands, Fingers that will

《回忆》/ "In Memoriam"

Reminder: The following travel account was written by AI, and the extent that meaning should be taken from its recollection should be judged accordingly. We embarked first on our trip by taking the winding grey road that cut through the woods and the old granite deposits that still could remember

《一印毛》/ “One Prest Cent”

The disk shines bright pink on one side and dull, dark, muddy brown on the other. Abraham Lincoln’s face is blocked by a bar of negative space; his tie and collar likewise fall to a crevasse. The black twine that’s looped in a cow hitch knot tugs tender

《鈥疢》/ "Holmium Home"

The upstairs rooms ooze sticky heat. Each doorway is blocked by A wall of dense hot air. My computer too emblazons its infrared mark On my desk, My arms, My hands The windows are open, to let in air flow, But the stagnant musk of summer clings stubbornly To the

《原生爱》/ "Proto-Love"

How does life begin to love? When the climate warm and wet, was there two inside a cove where crimson threads for first time met? Perhaps their webbed toes did entwine, amphibian intimacy, as waves collide with rocky cline, their hearts beat with celerity. Connection! Now the nexus forms for

《剪头发》/ "Haircut"

The follicles wave gently through the air, Brushing my neck and forcing my recall Of burdening presentation or flair: It has become my time to face the fall. Wisps ethereal wafting blue, pink, white From iron strands that chain me to the world Containing my leap from twisted play to

Something novel this way comes, y'all

A monster then, a dream, A discord. Dragons of the prime, That tare each other in their slime, Were mellow music match'd with him. -- Alfred, Lord Tennyson, in In Memoriam Section LVI [1850]