Is it a retreat from a conscious coherence into an unconscious incoherence? If so, will death, even as the finest ash, not slip into the
Is it a song sang as a quivering question to summon answers from scared spirits? Listen carefully: feel the frightened instruments; taste the tremble of
Of mute drums and snarling sheep Of thunder in tummies and cowing ears Of coiled thoughts and happy fists Of tumbling eagles and sleepless tunes
How it is that, in the quantum tango we call life, Mercy can tackle and mock Cruelty’s efforts to entangle, breaking its icy, clawing hands
Give me a hint on nature and human nature: Why is recurrence better than occurrence? Why is reproduction superior to production? Why is the imperfect
The heart has won the battle, easily The lungs have given voice to this triumph A narcotic called adrenaline flows freely Behold the passion and
Between the pain of reform and the resultant gain, There is a contested space, a place of pounding impatience a place of irredeemable ignorance a
1. Mum: Slippery certainty, and the solidity of a suckle on a teat. 2. Mama: To still my thoughts and dream. Yes, to dream
Contemplating the universe.
