I have slept, slumbering, yawning, and dreamt beautiful dreams. I have swallowed my own tears while salt parched lips, desert dry, cracking, crumbling, feared the…

I dance with my Mother beneath the blue flame of Her skin silently begging not to be born again, and She laughs, and She sings, and…

These are the ashes of an extra-ordinary Journey, inward, in Word. ​The Polemics, as I lovingly refer to my writings, are intended to be a collection of short articles, art-i-facts, journey notes, diagrams,…

In the M-iddle, at the bottom of the ‘U,’ of yo-U, between the ‘M’ and the ‘N’ in the ‘MUN’ of Com-MUN-ion, when and where the ‘I’ is M-i-N-i-M-ised, at the bottom of a c-U-p, a c-U-pel, a cr-U-cible, the Holy Grail.

​The Polemics, as I lovingly refer to my writings, are intended to be a collection of short articles, art-i-facts, journey notes, diagrams, ecstatic poetry, slights-of-hand…