a writer of sorts
1983 and faux anarchic romanticism seduces me. Squatting for peace dreaming that the threat of Threads is gone and Barefoot Gen can sleep unhindered; ashen shadows confined to graffiti. … Continue reading →
Saltwater seethes from the Black Isle to tease an endless beach; sea touching sky with a palette of blue green and haze grey. Rothko shimmers quickening the landscape painting … Continue reading →
nameless child nameless child mother earless mumchance isle-bound by the grace of a king – to search for the divine idiolect – communion with the light of lights … Continue reading →
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