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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…
This is a difficult thing to explain, but it kind of reminds me of this observation of subatomic particles, where you cannot determine both WHERE…
Maybe there’s a quickening, a hundredth monkey, a millionth Buddha. Maybe its you, maybe its me…. Who do you say that I am? I am…
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, ecstatic poetry, slights-of-hand with Compass, Square and Pen, written exclusively under the influence of Mind-Soul-Manifesting Agents, secret and sacred. For those not familiar with the word ‘polemic,’ it means ‘WAR,’ and every man is Jack.
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