The Fat Lady
I dance with my Mother beneath the blue flame of Her skin silently begging not to be born again,...
Read MoreI dance with my Mother beneath the blue flame of Her skin silently begging not to be born again,...
Read MoreThis is a difficult thing to explain, but it kind of reminds me of this observation of subatomic...
Read MoreMaybe there’s a quickening, a hundredth monkey, a millionth Buddha. Maybe its you, maybe its me…....
Read MoreThe Polemics, as I lovingly refer to my writings, are intended to be a collection of short articles, art-i-facts, journey notes, diagrams, ecstatic poetry, slights-of-hand with Compass, Square and Pen, written exclusively under the influence of Mind-Soul-Manifesting Agents, secret and sacred. For those not familiar with the word ‘polemic,’ it means ‘WAR,’ and every man is Jack.
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