I once had a therapist who said dreams mean nothing – just nocturnal synaptic activity as our brain filters and sorts our waking activity.
I wake to see the chrysalis transluce
Equinox / our remaining hope / before / Darker / Interrupts / Dark
To me it was Their transaction: / A payment / Or collection / Now, literally Everything is given away.
And while I knew well it would not be a dream / I expected a little less grinding of gears.
I write alone, in verse or prose / Enjoy it, if you predispose.
No matter the Framing, the Mat, or the Pane / The Whole of The Story it shall not contain.
Even with functioning eyes / Seeing can never be forced.
Loneliness is not / Truancy of Them; / ‘Tis the Roar of Self
Moist is for cake. Only. Ever.
he enters the fray daunted – so much like before
Some bits and bytes of sound and light combine
So, today’s word prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday (#SoCS) is “hope“. HA! HA HA! I just wrote a poem … More
the breath so long withheld
where again is there?
branches reach across the chasm of flat, liquid nothingness
July doesn’t change a thing.
What will the church do with us?
The FIve-Fold Path
This was the first in a very irregular stream of video entries. I’m slowly uploading them to my site so … More