Thursday, December 31, 2009
For the record post 17b: Dreams of Earthquakes
I have had repeating dreams of earthquakes in months (years?) gone by. Me, standing in an office building (similar to the one I now work in), swaying with the building back and forth. And a downtown core quite decimated. Not totally - say 60%, with large columns of cement resting in front of entrances, and a city turned on its ear.
Hope I'm wrong!
Hope I'm wrong!
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
1024x768
Somewhere towards the start of night
Is where the run began
Shards of crimson tears shed by
The despot's neutral hand
No need there just primal urge
As moon begat the race
No finish line, no goal, no path
Nor god, nor science, nor grace
Distance clear; mountains, fjord, glen, and rivers wide
Alchemied through vector's fire
Two dimension ride
Ghosts appeared and - serpents -
And the cards of lovers spent
Spilled cups and sallow siren songs
And broken covenants
Breath pulled down
To cinnamon depths
Where dreams wetnursed
The missed
That rose in spider's fingers
To the lips - parched, cracked, and pursed
The final line towards final shire
Boundary hard and warm
The muse, the mountain, artist left
Once again unharmed
Is where the run began
Shards of crimson tears shed by
The despot's neutral hand
No need there just primal urge
As moon begat the race
No finish line, no goal, no path
Nor god, nor science, nor grace
Distance clear; mountains, fjord, glen, and rivers wide
Alchemied through vector's fire
Two dimension ride
Ghosts appeared and - serpents -
And the cards of lovers spent
Spilled cups and sallow siren songs
And broken covenants
Breath pulled down
To cinnamon depths
Where dreams wetnursed
The missed
That rose in spider's fingers
To the lips - parched, cracked, and pursed
The final line towards final shire
Boundary hard and warm
The muse, the mountain, artist left
Once again unharmed
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Dragonsloth, my old foe
Traz, you're done here
Excised from the evening farewell to the day
You're a friend that heals and poisons - how then, do I trust you?
You were brought in by an ally from the West;
He was well meaning
And the rest of the family - those that know you for who you are -
Acquiesced for the greater good
But what is good here?
With you - rested but cloudy
Without you - Dragonsloth is more insidious and doesn't beg for entry as much as just settles in
The intuition behind this all
Is *the* behind this all
With a kind of leaning kick
The serpent twitches the leg
And for now I can see both Dragonsoth, and Traz, and that which sees it all
For now, the decision to seems good Traz
But I know from experience that cutting off friends can have unintended consquences.
I wonder.
Excised from the evening farewell to the day
You're a friend that heals and poisons - how then, do I trust you?
You were brought in by an ally from the West;
He was well meaning
And the rest of the family - those that know you for who you are -
Acquiesced for the greater good
But what is good here?
With you - rested but cloudy
Without you - Dragonsloth is more insidious and doesn't beg for entry as much as just settles in
The intuition behind this all
Is *the* behind this all
With a kind of leaning kick
The serpent twitches the leg
And for now I can see both Dragonsoth, and Traz, and that which sees it all
For now, the decision to seems good Traz
But I know from experience that cutting off friends can have unintended consquences.
I wonder.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
And then some
Strange bright lines
Connect and interrupt
Connect and interrupt
Connect and
Too much connection
Pool is filling up with bright matter
Not the bright that illuminates;
The bright that verves and sheets in gray dragons
Across the shoulders and v's down
To the abdomen
Dragonsloth is no help here -
Even Dragonsloth is so askew he's biting his own tail
In some kind of confused joke
Demons are out, under control but running amok.
And through it all, I try to watch.
Connect and interrupt
Connect and interrupt
Connect and
Too much connection
Pool is filling up with bright matter
Not the bright that illuminates;
The bright that verves and sheets in gray dragons
Across the shoulders and v's down
To the abdomen
Dragonsloth is no help here -
Even Dragonsloth is so askew he's biting his own tail
In some kind of confused joke
Demons are out, under control but running amok.
And through it all, I try to watch.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
This is what saddens.
This is what saddens:
Being available, but unknown
Torn and unstiched;
Wondering if wandering away will message discontent,
Or worse yet, go unnoticed.
Posturing in all its egoic vulgarity
Seems all that is left
On windswept firmanents such as this.
The cycle is close to breaking
Joining
And starting again
Soulwood, counting the rings
Then recognizing the deification of ego and contracting
To a single point of light that ends and begins
Everything.
Being available, but unknown
Torn and unstiched;
Wondering if wandering away will message discontent,
Or worse yet, go unnoticed.
Posturing in all its egoic vulgarity
Seems all that is left
On windswept firmanents such as this.
The cycle is close to breaking
Joining
And starting again
Soulwood, counting the rings
Then recognizing the deification of ego and contracting
To a single point of light that ends and begins
Everything.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
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