I arrived empty-handedDeparting after sunsetPockets full of regretImages of fresh woundsecho long past healingBut I assume forgottenJust some fading ghostDeparting empty-handed
mirror
an old man looking at his face in a mirror recalls looking in a mirror in high school and asking what he will look like when oldnow wondering how did that young face lookafter the rivers valleys whetstone of daystwisting path now seems a sublime geodesic
52626
abstract way points floating over waterare we the only species to achieve thisor are there others raging war for eonsfucking in the mud with deep philosophytheir doors of perception exploded openserene bicameral love of shiva and kalithe center falls inward and holds still
discarnate
When I die everything vanishes, never happened, except to othersAnd someone else will be born, the only ego in a world of othersThis won’t be me, but it will feel like a me, that’s how it goesYou will be here again, as you have been here before, discarnate Pick up a rock that killed a… Continue reading
Pareto
In 1999, I conducted an IMLS conservation survey of the collections at the Gold Nugget Museum, deep in the northern Sierras. For a small historical museum, they had a decent collection: Civil War costumes, lots of textiles and ladies hats, Flintlock rifles, newspapers from the 19th century, you know. An old historic property with nice… Continue reading
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