Welcome, and thanks for stopping here to read selections of my original poetry and prose. Only half my art is here. As you browse my puppets, words if you will, think of them as empty hulls whose dance and form are only animated in Play through my vocal conveyance of their characters and via my direction of their tone. Lyric to the ears, its whole message soon appears, in thus the conjuring of ancient daemons deep within to combat the evil ones brought up infernal by the Craft of ages can be our stage tonight.

On this blog the theme is AWAKENING and how Revelation is not some story plural in a Book but supposed to be one of yours in this lifetime. Here in verse I share with you my inquiry to which has bonded Muse.
YOUR STORY IS THE STORY. Their horsie four so full of holes they named that way just to have a laugh. Revelation and Creation coincide, they never stopped. A daily occurrence in a Live Show me is true Prophesy which I assure you, smells nothing like a library book, and for which no innocents are ever killed. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you copy it to heart.

Asymptote October No Novembersea

This day has no light in it
and it's as if the very hands
on all the clocks want no more
of the useless sweeping moves
to just point out coordinated reference
of where lies Epoch in its futile march;
as if the thumbtack centerclock
binding their fate 12 after 12 after 12 should a loosened screw not be,
but riveted in protest
to force Move out
and clearing Singularity.
Time's too heavy to carry Now.
Something's brewing up on deck,
I feel it in the anchor House!
All that holds below soon overboard
and the winds again
bring all burdens to Lagoon.

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