On my walk tonight I saw men flying sideways through the air in overcoats and bowler hats, graphite pencils gnawing on their shin bones.
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(I did! But they emerged from 'The Master and Margarita,' a Russian masterpiece by Bulgakov that I am listening to as an audiobook, an image in his book that became a sort of Magritte drawing-in-process in the sky, though a little more demented than Magritte ever was. :)
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
Woman with Flowers 7.1
(7th sketch in series, first iteration of this one) Woman with Flowers Flowers, props upholding the woman. The flowers, fragrant, imaginar...
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The Buddha says: “ You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself .” The path is uncertain. Uncertainty is the guiding for...
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direct link: Tones of Noir music: Alex Bailey, ' Piano Improvisation No 7 .' Do poems wait to be born? A poem whittled out of t... -
What if relationships are the primary ordering principle? What if the way relationships are ordered clarify, explain, and instruct us on th...
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