This round: quieter reading, book-style chapters, and one HH throughout.
THE MODERN POET
2C-B, LSD
By HH
Basel, Switzerland! 1943!
A curious chemist makes a discovery!
Please remain seated...
Too late.
---
Just say no, just say no,
That's what they told us long ago.
Close your eyes and count to three,
Tell me what you're scared to see.
Just say no, just say no,
Round and round the colors go.
One for you and two for me,
Three for what we cannot see.
2C-B, LSD,
Expand your mind, come follow me.
2C-B, LSD,
What you see ain't what you see.
---
One little rabbit went down a hole,
Two little eyes saw a thousand souls.
Three little clocks forgot the time,
Four little walls began to rhyme.
Five little fingers, six little toes,
Seven little secrets nobody knows.
Eight little mirrors, nine little lies,
Ten little versions of you inside.
Round goes the room, round goes the moon,
Everything's late, everything's soon.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen...
Where have you been?
Albert Hofmann! Bicycle ride!
April nineteenth, nineteen forty-three!
The wheels go round, the colors slide!
Oh my, what could it be?
Keep pedaling.
---
Mushroom moon and a porcelain throne,
Look in the mirror, you're not alone.
Stomach turns and the walls all bend,
Meet yourself at the bitter end.
Sick little smile on a sick little face,
Lost for a moment in a familiar place.
Look in the glass, what do you see?
Something looking back at me.
Is it the truth? Is it a lie?
Is it the ceiling? Is it the sky?
Not every journey is a pleasant one!
Can we go again?
Absolutely.
Welcome to the laboratory!
Alexander Shulgin! Chemistry!
Tiny little molecules! Two-C-B!
A little change in structure...
Changes everything you see.
---
Just say no, just say no,
That's what they told us long ago.
Close your eyes and count to three,
Tell me what you're scared to see.
Just say no, just say no,
Round and round the colors go.
One for you and two for me,
Three for what we cannot see.
2C-B, LSD,
Expand your mind, come follow me.
2C-B, LSD,
What you see ain't what you see.
---
Albert made a little key,
Alexander turned it three.
One unlocked a painted door,
One found colors on the floor.
Little molecules, little minds,
Little clocks that cannot find
Where the seconds go to sleep,
When the water gets too deep.
Good little trip, bad little dream,
Nothing's ever what it seems.
Laugh with the devil, cry with the sun,
Sometimes you lose when you think you've won.
Remember, boys and girls!
Just say no! Just say no!
No to what?
---
Albert Hofmann! Bicycle ride!
2C-B! Electric slide!
Albert Hofmann! Bicycle ride!
Alexander Shulgin! Electric slide!
Alexander! Shulgin! Shulgin!
Alexander! Shulgin! Shulgin!
Albert Hofmann! 2C-B!
Alexander! LSD!
Bicycle ride! Electric slide!
Bicycle ride! Electric slide!
Shulgin! Shulgin! Alexander!
2C-B! LSD! 2C-B! LSD!
Expand your mind.
Albert Hofmann! Bicycle ride!
2C-B! Electric slide!
Albert Hofmann! Bicycle ride!
2C-B! Electric slide!
Alexander! Shulgin! Shulgin!
But how would you know?
---
One to remember, two to forget,
Three for the things we haven't seen yet.
Four for the pleasure, five for the pain,
Six little raindrops falling again.
Seven for heaven, eight for the floor,
Nine for the knocking, ten for the door.
Who's at the door?
I am.
---
Just say no, just say no,
That's what they told us long ago.
Close your eyes and count to three,
Tell me what you're scared to see.
Just say no, just say no,
Round and round the colors go.
One for you and two for me,
Three for what we cannot see.
2C-B, LSD,
Expand your mind, come follow me.
2C-B, LSD,
What you see ain't what you see.
Two-C-B...
L-S-D...
Expand your mind...
---
Attention, boys and girls!
We don't recommend these substances,
Especially to the weak-minded,
The faint-hearted,
Or those who've already accepted reality!
Your mind is your responsibility.
A little rhyme. Something to turn over. Tomorrow, a possible answer.
A moment with the words.
WORDS / EVERY HOUR
WORDS / EVERY HOUR
A note on the rotation
Box one belongs to works shared here—pictures, poems, or both—with a new selection each hour. The other three change one at a time every fifteen minutes. One is a Halloween poem through October. Skip any card, or pause while you read.
THE COLLECTION
Stay for a little while.
Browse by category or shuffle
Search words and related subjects, or use a name. You can combine both. Results change as you type.
Nothing here yet. Try another search, or leave a poem of your own.
BEHIND THE WORDS
Find a poet.
Different places. Different lives. A shared human experience.
Search the collection and live public records. Results link back to their sources.
No matching poets in this draft yet.
FOLLOW YOUR CURIOSITY
Someone you might not know.
Two voices from the collection. New suggestions every 30 seconds, or whenever you feel like it.
THE PLACES BEHIND THE WORDS
Closer than you think.
Find poets and deceased philosophers with documented public city connections near you. Start within 250 miles, or expand to 500.
Try a city:
Choose a city or use your location to find poets within 250 miles. No place is assumed for you.
A note on location and privacy
These are approximate city locations—not private addresses or exact writing spots.
City searches go to Open-Meteo. Your device location is used only in this page to calculate distance. Nothing is saved. Distances are straight-line estimates to public places, not private homes or a complete list of local poets.
One artwork for the day. A growing collection to explore. Open a name or portrait for the person behind it. Interpretations are optional.
Look beyond this collection
Search The Met’s public collection by artist, work, place, or subject. Living artists are welcome here, too. Museum results link to the original; protected or unreviewed images stay at the museum.
A husband. A father of two. An aviator on a hobby farm. Just a normal dude who likes poetry—and occasionally writes some.
I built this because reading about a poet, finding their work, then following an interesting thought meant bouncing between a bunch of searches. I wanted the things I like in one place. So I made it. Figured I might as well share.
I spend a lot of evenings here reading, following ideas and leaving little notes. This place keeps growing because I actually use it. If I can make it easier for me, hopefully it’s easier for somebody else, too.
It’s also somewhere to leave my own work so people who know me can read it. If other people find something here, great. If it’s mostly me for a while, well, I was going to be reading anyway.
A little room outside your own head.
Poetry, art, philosophy and the occasional question that follows you home. Read something. Follow the person behind it. See where you end up.
I haven’t submitted any of my work for publication. Asking someone else to accept my art has never been my thing. Nothing against anyone who takes that route; I just wanted somewhere to put mine.
You’re welcome to leave something, too. Use your name, a call sign, or stay anonymous. No profiles, likes or follower counts. Your work stays yours.
Pandora’s box.
I was an infantry Marine, stuck in a cause I didn’t believe in. Thinking through the variables helped keep me alive. Building a place for internet submissions apparently calls for that habit, too: I’m hoping for Shakespeare. I’m prepared for buttholes.
I use AI to screen submissions and help explain sourced thoughts. Passing work goes public; flagged work waits privately for me to review. The little explanations are a way into an idea, not the last word.
THERE’S ROOM FOR YOUR VOICE.
Got something to say? Leave it here.
A poem. A picture. Both. Sign your name, use a pen name, or stay anonymous. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.
Why so much HH? And how does this work?
Right now, I’m most of the crowd. I make a lot, and I built somewhere to put it. I’d like this place to grow beyond the inside of my own head.
Works From Here gives one submitted work the board for an hour. Skip it, search for something, or leave it alone. Nobody’s taking attendance. HH gets no special slot.
There are other voices in the Library and on Home. If you’re reading this in ten years and it’s still mostly my work here, apparently I kept busy. No hidden message. I just needed somewhere to put the poems.
— HH · October 24, 2026
ONLY IN THIS BROWSER
Private image drafts.
Pending review. These images are kept out of the collection. There is no automated screening or public upload service connected yet.
A LITTLE ROOM TO THINK
A thought for the day.
Different places. Different ways of seeing. Deceased thinkers with work that remains in circulation.
For this section, only dead philosophers. The rest of us are still working on our theories.
Find a philosopher or an idea.
Use either field, or combine them. Searches match words and related subjects in this collection.
A note on countries and sources
Country connections use present-day geography; they are not claims about ancient nationality. This is a small starting collection, not a complete world directory. Classical works may have been compiled by followers or published after the author’s death.
Deceased thinkers with a documented work in Wikidata. Search above by name or present-day birthplace country. Subject searches check descriptions and work titles, not full books. Coverage and historical geography are incomplete.
A thought doesn’t have to end with an answer. Leave a question. Leave room.
How the rotation works
894 sourced thoughts and prompts, and growing. Original thoughts posted here join the same rotation.
One thought for the hour. Skip whenever you like. Your own thoughts belong here too—no profile, likes, or comments. Category: Other, unless you choose one.
Original thoughts share the pool with 894 sourced thoughts and prompts. While there are fewer than 20 posted thoughts, one in ten selections comes from here; at 20 it’s one in five, at 50 one in three, and at 100 one in two. Each pool shuffles without early repeats. Skips count as selections. A search can narrow the pool, so the mix then depends on what matches. Leave room for your own reading.
TWO VOICES. ROOM FOR BOTH.
See it another way.
Choose a poet and a poem. Find a similar feeling, or try an emotional contrast. These are suggested readings, not fixed meanings.
YOUR SAVED POEMS
Words you kept.
Saved on this browser. No account, public count, or notification to the poet.
A LITTLE RHYME. A LITTLE ROOM TO THINK.
Riddle of the day.
Some have answers. Some open another door. Give it a day.
Seven days to catch up. A fresh riddle each day, with no reruns.
My name is Franklin. Hamilton’s around here somewhere.