Amos

Be not dismayed nor discouraged by those who see the sunlight differently than thou. Hesitate not. But treading softly—for about lie dreams theirs as much as thine—take dreadful measure of how the sound and fury further up the mountain roils and, then, heaven grasp you by way of violence within thine mind’s eye.

passage in the night.

“Alright, I’m off.” … I find my mind trying to rewind time. Trying to recapture that moment and those that led to it. Trying to reclaim, revisit, redress, and resolve. Trying to return to when you were still here and parting was something we did at regular intervals to allow ourselves the joy of salutations […]

but had eyes to see.

Art is observation. Not, obviously, in the sense of being passive: in terms of motion & participation art is supremely active, to the point where I wonder if it’s possible to engage with art, as creator or as audience, and not be moved by the process. Art is observation in that it is the process […]

hell’s finest liquor.

Clarity. Like autumn lightening, branches crackling, tracing fire across the sky’s darkening canvas. Like the flooded, cooling, post-exclamatory aftermath of a moment’s self-flagellation. Like deepening, sullen, dull ache that comes to all who truly & profoundly understand but a moment too late. … Clarity. The one thing we all hope for but, on finding our […]

post hoc.

When we cannot bear the thought of picking up a new book to read, even one we have been anticipating for a long time, it is because we are suffering from a critical lack of safety; such that not even our cœur d’cœurs can now house what we deeply desire for fear —that is, aphonic […]

apotheosis.

“I need you to understand.” The grip of their hands on yours surprises you, and you glance down to see white intensity staining the backs of their knuckles. But it begins to make sense, the tone of their voice and that hard tightness in the air, foreshadowing eyes that pierce clean through your marrow & […]

safe as houses.

We take our traumas and we live in them. We build tabernacles. Places to call our own. Safe within these walls, secure this time, perhaps. Am I? (home) . We take our wounds and we rest in them. We build weapons. Strength to call our own. Grasp the curse, claim the thorn, step into power. […]

Anzac 2022

Amid the noise and triumph,Amid the sordid, political, elective wrangling,Past the unhonest, chicanic, newsrag kingmaking,Beyond the corporate interest, vested & hollow both,Let me, let thee, take pause in minute’d silence. Let us remember. Lest we forget.

27/09

Dear God. I’m gasping. Gasping. Clawing for air, reaching from the deepest part of my chest as my bleary, oxygen-starved brain struggles wordlessly for relief, restitution, from the yawning gap that spans & penetrates my most intimate, viscerally-felt, and poorly understood self of self. I stand in the wreckage of unconscious pride, of adopted assumptions […]

too quiet.

Thoreau was wrong. Nothing is quiet if you take sufficient time to stop and listen. Just ask post-Fafnir Sigurd walking through the woods if it’s bloody quiet. After he’s finished laughing his head off he’ll look you in the eyes with a terribly, terribly solemn gaze. He’ll step in close; real close, like he’s going […]