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INSTANT
An instant, perhaps less, who is to know and how is it to measure. Time is a dimension that we stretch and shape, that always snaps back, resisting change, ever changing. It insures that this moment-place can never exist again, and the Buddhist river thanks us.
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DOG’S BEST FRIEND
The dog wandered up to me. Dogs often did that. This time he dragged his person along, none too pleased at the extension of what the person hoped was a short walk. Both dog and person smiled, the dog meaning it, the person likely out of habit. The dog confirmed the person was impatient. The…
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VOYAGE FROM WITHIN
Magellan set sail 497 years ago, which had nothing to do with her desire to find a corner in which she could stand, protected on two sides, and still stare out into the world and see all that was going on around her. Better still if it were fashioned of plexiglass, it could surround her…
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LOST IN A DREAM
In my dream last night, I was lost in a city of mostly dogs, but what was odd is that they were all standard poodles who only wanted to lick my hand and cheek. I tell you this not because the dream was unusual, it was in fact rather mundane. I didn’t awaken with a…
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WALKING THE WIRE
There is a precarious balance we spend much of life attempting to maintain. It is like the invisible border between day and night dream and forgetting and we walk the wire along the precipice awaiting the arrival of the sun so that we can bid farewell to the dark places in which our dreams hide.
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WHERE?
Is it the trip or the arriving that most matters, or is it simply what you expect once you are there, if there is where you expect for expectations are too often misplaced and assumptions reflect desire, not truth. In the end it hardly matters, for you can never be anywhere but where you happen…
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SPECIES LOGIC
There is a logical reason that zoos are not built in the heart of cities for it would be difficult to ascertain which animals were the exhibits and which were the visitors, each in their own sorts of cages. In the end it would not work out well for lions and monkees prefer to watch…
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OF DREAMS AND DREAMERS
The morphology of dreams is partially reliant on the whims of a single god, and Morpheus is, to say the least, a truly fickle bastard who dangles before us joy and nightmare each always just out of reach, but never out of sight or hearing. So we are left to grasp like marionettes operated…
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MARCHING ON
He notes with alacrity that modern man has stripped all logic from time, rendering it an arbitrary temporal system based on mechanics, and even that is quadrennially imperfect. Once it was seasons, which came and went in orderly fashion, but heating was never a science then. Later it was the moon a reusable calendar…
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ARRIVAL
Night arrives, the rain arrives, and the sun is washed away to dry beyond the horizon and there to prepare to reappear.
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an old writer and his words 