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.

Flood of Streams

To make TV
record audio
film video feed
later, bring two things
onto longtable and slice them up
in tracks and bowls the fruitseed
eels frozen some Castle dinner.

And when together later
to the Renaissance is played
this Pixel pixie theater vox box
how the Court receives
but one royal Event!

What was the television
a set of?
Media in social form.
This flood of streams.

This is why our world
stands on bamboozled stalks
and not the backs
The elephants of Ages gone.

By default life is playback.
Narrative caddy shack
golf course not yours.
So go. Play.
Watch a treetop's breeze
and wonder at the Mix
mashup blue sky cloud sway.

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