https://dxmweb.com/posts/Recent content in Posts on Dulcedo ex MemoriaHugo -- gohugo.ioen-usThu, 02 Jan 2025 14:22:54 -0600https://dxmweb.com/posts/squeaks/Thu, 02 Jan 2025 14:22:54 -0600https://dxmweb.com/posts/squeaks/My car squeaks when the steering wheel turns. Not in protest, I would say, it’s more open, in anticipation, in almost whispered delight: Let us go, let us turn, let us wind ourselves together with the road and the wind and the motion of getting along, on the go, we— Moving forward together, again, left and right together, with a little mousey gladness born of a lion’s heartthrobs; to run, to chase, to roar.https://dxmweb.com/posts/design-flaw/Sun, 19 May 2024 11:29:00 -0500https://dxmweb.com/posts/design-flaw/Looking at the contextual menu in Apple’s iTunes, you can see that the programmers put Delete from Library as the very last item in the menu. iTunes Contextual Menu Which forces me to wonder if—well, really, how often—I’ve deleted something by mistake.https://dxmweb.com/posts/made-by-a-robot/Fri, 09 Feb 2024 23:14:53 -0600https://dxmweb.com/posts/made-by-a-robot/Here is an image created by Open AI’s DALL·E 2 Art from a Machine This image was prompted by: “a Paris street in the rain with a woman and an umbrella as a watercolor.” Unless you enjoy H. P. Lovecraft , don’t look at the woman’s face.https://dxmweb.com/posts/my-blue-muse/Sat, 13 Jan 2024 15:17:30 -0600https://dxmweb.com/posts/my-blue-muse/My blue muse, trust me again with your heart, salted and cured but no less lovely than when it was dewey and fresh in the bud on the vine of my delight. For inside the crusts of salt lie not the crumbs of experience left behind by the flight of days but the radiant luster of moments lived and dreamed and yet to be. Audacious hearts contain neither miniature terrariums, norhttps://dxmweb.com/posts/green-in-your-eyes/Tue, 20 Jul 2004 15:11:17 -0600https://dxmweb.com/posts/green-in-your-eyes/There is green now in your eyes Where once was red and gold, Like the color of fallen oak leaves Or the needles of last year’s pines. And they are guarded as I watch You watching me now, with your New, spring-touched vision, and I wonder: on what are you gazing? Have you taken up wandering In memory, or do you dream Of the boundless visions that Your tomorrows are bringing?