MEDIA
KIT
artbooks.
cosm
.cc
a Geography
of Melancholy
journey into desolation
the official poster as a composite of various images from the book and one not used

told with
AI-generated
fine art,
and
prose verse
text
for those
whom
God, Life, Love
and the
Universe
failed
Dedication
Preface
  Nothing now
  The Lived Dead
  Geography of melancholy
  Whereverer yu goho
   You despair very well
POEM :: LOVE’S LAST HATE
  What You Choose It Ends
  If there was one
  A thing or of thingness
  Running from the run
POEM :: INTERREGNUM
  Fragmen ts and yo u f rag m ente d
  Prison of many cells in you are bone
  The form of substance, it’s nothing
  The gauntlet of each of
POEM :: FAREWELL, FAIR WORLD
  Or look back
  Signage gives signposts but the
POEM :: I HAD DREAMED
  voided spaces hold no
  Before any king
Colophon
  Reprise
Coda


AN AI-ODYSSEY
COLLECTION
NARRATIVE
ARTBOOK
logo of the series
               by
         aka Colkr
official 'badge' stating DRM free
PURCHASE TO
DOWNLOAD
17" x 11"
double page ebook

$ 12.35
with
80+ IMAGES
5000+ WORDS
including
4 FULL-LENGTH
POEMS
ISBN
979-8-9927917-0-9

© 2025, Colkr
PURCHASE
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Select any
excerpt to
enlarge


EXCERPTS

Preface
Though this book is a visual and textual journey of despair, desolation and defeat such things are not without their beauty. Ruined places remind us of the triumph of nature, of the necessity of time to bring change to what for all its hubris tries to remain the same. If the narrative is about defeat it's also about taking in hand that loss and owning it, affirming it, and making of it an exploration of the darker, drearier side of possibility. How we handle disappointment is individual depending on the strength of its devastation.

Chapter 3
        a geography of melancholy
needing no garbage-lined street, or cast away cars, dead
vermin feral cats won't dare to eat
means no road less taken
is any less forsaken

Chapter 4
Congratulations, you despair very well, revealing rifts narrow and deep or
shallow and wide wounds in the skin of the earth are not sanctuaries of
safety the sordid pastorale shapes of your sorrowfulnesses dogging your steps
with a gut punch thunderball and infinite chances to fall,

Chapter 8
for what's left
when hiding can't be hidden, are
long things longing to seduce you,
high things with fright, chain you to
swoll vestiges of torn beauty, hunt
you for food and for sport, make
wild desolation out of wilderness
devoid of animal plant stream cloud
a rainy wet void of sun rise or set yet the broadside
of a foul domicile

POEM:: Interregnum
let me disintegrate, leave me to stoke the quaking heartbreak rebroke
        licking the anger red swallowing the river back to the bleeding
              the well of its needing faking the false fraudulent facetious flatulent
               foolhardy l(ove, the, the
       repeat the) alibi, salivate the next sentences, repent, repeat

Chapter 12
your landscape
is passage through
inchoate terrain where order anarchic
narcisssitc necessity to be disorderly to rearrange to blend and fuse to shuffle your many minds in bewildered variety of patterns to splatter everything that ever mattered into a mass of mostly messy misanthropy

POEM:: Farewell, Fair World
leave you now and your gridwork streets piled high with steel
and office tower economically secure but in no other way leave this day
the girdle of normative suburban stability looking up to a vacant sky
with nowhere to further fly but nevertheless leave
  your incendiary streets



Cover
cover for the artbook of a young man sitting in a dark room, oil lamp lit, and with head drooped and leg jacked with a long narrow table running away from him where 4 bottles--with some unknown substance contained in each--sit in a straight line

Page 8
a large readable image of page 8 with the same text as the promo video used. Cameos of three forlorn faces on the upper left corner and one of those cameos extended in size of a woman become ghastly and horrid, leaning against a wall in a narrow alleyway. Her eyes glow read and there are pustules in her hair. The text reads
'So you decide to oppress the oppressors
in a game scoring a toss-up, no winner claiming it all
but you but you the lost loser dropping the ball
jaded and scarred in every way playing out
the pathos of your part,
a broken body disowning
your busted heart.

You choose a lived
death with nothing lively but musty moldly busyness
coldly unannounced, a sort of laying motionless with
breath renounced, a kind of soliliquy of solo
syllables opining in a graveyard
yet treason with no regard is pronounced like
happily-ever-after buried in eulogies whining
with threat lost to the laughter of birds,
the warm summer breeze,
blessed sunlight shining,
hope without doubt, and words
penitentially wielded as flowers in the solemn night,
limp weapons laid to rot at headstones of rock
forever locked out.'

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CONTENT WARNING
This book is intended for mature readers comfortable with the highly-charged language of anguish, and may not be suitable for all. The subject matter and content could be disturbing, including the use of sexual metaphors. The author’s intent is not to provoke for its own sake, but to explore a complex and challenging theme. While the journey is dark and unsettling, it finishes with the possibility of deliverance.
  All images post-processed. No raw images used.  
  No AI-assisted tools were used in the creation of text, poems, or book design  
feedback :: connect @ cosm dot cc :: comments