Postulate

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.