Rabindranath Tagore, timeless poetic meanderings after my own restless heart (forsooth) “Where roads are made I lose my way. In the wide water, in the blue sky there is no line of a track. The pathway is hidden by the birds’ wings, by the star-fires, by the flowers of the wayfaring seasons. And I ask Read More
As a moon struck writer and mad surfer of consciousness, it surprised me how insightful and self reflective a tool okcupid turns out to be! An intelligent and compelling, new(ish) paradigm of social networking for potential lovers, whether casual shag or serious spouse! We’re all looking for a potential mate at times and I have Read More
or hit play below… Dance jam 7 by Beatnik9 on Mixcloud
– start at 22m15s . . . A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me. ~ The Prophet. Khalil Gibran Drifting through the formless void, darkness all around. there is a shimmer of sound
which move out over the things of the world. Perhaps I can never achieve the last, but that will be my attempt. I am circling around God, around the ancient tower, and I have been circling for a thousand years, and I still don’t know if I am a falcon, or a storm, or a Read More
Dulce et decorem est pro patria mori. Oh yeah – that Hallmark holiday where we pay lip service to the duped warriors of the nation sent out as fodder to feed the military industrial complex and protect corporate interests at large (America – global arms dealer #1, America – consumer of oil #1, hmmm) Yet Read More
by Mehdi Akhavan-e Salis (M. Omid) Holding its sky tightly in its arms, the cloud, wrapped in its cold, damp sheepskin. The garden of leaflessness, is alone, day and night, with its pure, forlorn silence. Its instrument the rain, its anthem the wind. Its clothe is the cloak of nakedness.
After a meteorologically and sociologically intense week working at the airport, helping to build out the framework of the city before the event “begins,” the collective switch is thrown that last Sunday of August, and the living beauty emerges, fleshing out the body of Black Rock City like a complex luminescent bloom on some other worldly plane. The Read More
falling away into grace becoming enfolded in darkening wings of winter’s embrace, from the east she calls, i love you
by Yvor Winters I. IN WINTER Myself Pale mornings, and I rise. Still Morning Snow air–my fingers curl. Awakening New snow, O pine of dawn!