Sunday, 3 June 2012


Actually, I just want to post a poem.

But first, a quick thank you to the Calgary artists
who are reaching out to have their work incorporate in
MeatRobes: An Exploratory Magazine.

I won't name any names yet as part of the nature of the
publication is to allow pseudonyms and alter-egos
to protect the soft bits of those who enter work.

If they desire.  If they wish to be identified they
will be.

Times are strange.
We'll have more fun than ever before.


Spell Slinger

We flip the cards, investigate the
situation.  Seek contradictions or 
anomalies.  Changing wave patterns,
fascinated by our dreams we seek 
a wakefulness that functions like a 
blender.  A divinatory chopping into
one healthy, sweet energetic blessing. 

Impermanence is apparently
some kind of key.
The fleshy ex-monster
says to me, "you
can want all you want."

I coined the term, "bush witch"
yesterday afternoon, the double 
connotation only obvious
after the words left my lips.

And one deep grin becomes another.

Insert a grand sweeping, Leonine
gesture here, the type of motion that
let's everyone know that we are in 
the middle of something meaningful, 
something self-derived and salvaged 
from outside the veil of wake/sleep/repeat.

The air is full of attention. The small birds
find new voices, shake the old vices and 
step of the grid, raising their own uncertain 
harmonies against the work-songs of history
and all that weird religious chanting.

The air is full of attention, the gesturing
is effective, the wave patterns change, 
the fragments stay that way.

Spells linger.

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