(Rarely But With Feeling) THE SEMI-COLON SPEAKS (RARELY, BUT WITH FEELING) – a poem in partial conclusions – I’m not a full stop; I’m not a comma; I’m the shadow that falls between thoughts; a boundary, blurred; the lingering tension in a well-read pause; you used to know me. There was a time— you valued ambiguity; you embraced complexity; breath, hesitate, wander; you’d draw breath and know: it isn’t over, not quite yet; Now you swipe; you “lol” and move on. I don’t
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A Short Story by Awen Null The old man sat hunched on the sea wall, his coat wrapped around his bones, listening to the sigh of the tide as it pulled away from Laugharne’s muddy shore. A wagtail bobbed and dipped at his feet, as if keeping time with the slow tremor of his hand resting on the carved top of his stick. The winter air smelt of brine and old rain, and the sky above was a poet’s sky; deep-bellied and rolling, shifting like memories through a tired, damaged mind. There had been a t
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A poem for all those Medium writers who peddle snake oil articles about how they can smugly tell if someone's using ChatGPT And lo—behold the mighty em dash— that brash sliver of breathless pause— once the haunter of high-minded prose— now marched to the frontlines of AI detection wars. Not commas, no— not full stops with their stiff-spined endings— but this: the dash—drawn sword of irony— sliced into syntax like spilled algorithm. They say—they say!—it’s how you can tell, if the ghost behi
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