Another mind splinter seems to have gone in.. after half a bottle of wine.. i wake with a black hole of chlorodyne forgetfulness. Dreaming of hospital beds, cancer, this could be only ten years away. I am calm about it –...
A sudden plosm creates echoes. Later i exhume the body of an old pet, and notice that the chickens are all gone. So now is the time for wine and music… the blood on my fingers.. picking up the guitar the...
Taken some new portraits of me as a poetaster, and making images as part of general renovations to the ‘poem library’ and other parts of this site. Tortured or disgruntled? On the red chair in the blue room. With books. Do...
new poems.. like new leaves on trees soon to be felled. the darkness the darkness.. what is the simplest path now? the straightest path leads into emptiness .. the vast gasp of new verbiage heaping onto blogs, spilling from pages into...
If opium were more widely available, I would take that rather than red wine on some nights (I have a glass of red by my hand as I write this). Michael Dransfield I suppose was of the same opinion. Coleridge, Hafiz;...
I have daydreamd through the year. Here we are at the end again. war i find accumulating knowledge only confuses things. peace somehow there is a rock in the centre of my life which keeps us safe. but i dream of...
ooh what a contradictory mess. bjm + fart + bandwagon + idiot wine + corck + bagawan at 6 to midnight. what about the water pissstol? i think there is a sort of revolution about to happen. I always think this....
It occurs to me that the question ‘why do i feel?’ is answered through an exploration of that feeling, through an indulgence in the substrate of that question. To unrestrainedly debauch oneself in abeyance to the ultimate ‘why?’ is the path...
