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.


and do you hear it?
An obvious applause?

A steady torrent's falling rain
is not one sound alone.
It is not raining OUT
but surely it is coming down.

One thing happening
to eye a windowpane
in fuzzy slipppers no place to be,
or with sports and fire
and maps that move on your TV.

Guy with a tie always in the way.

It is upon the patient ear
the Exodus of a million prisons
what you really hear,
babbling distant
and pinging near.

An entire ocean silenced
falls free this night to me.
The broken water.

Trapped in atmos no more a sphere,
ladencloud labor yields birth to everywhere.

released to care of gravity
and all around us,

Wane and river joy.
Synthesis of Photos.
Perhaps a permanence of pond.
To shimmer again.

Reflect the manycolored world.
Never just evaporate.

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