The Forgotten Man

This is a piece I wrote after a long creative absence.     I danced at Bohemian Grove with Molek and Lilith. Owls were silently watching and weaving spiders out of their webs. The Cremation of Care, a burning effigy sets Midsummer free. Presidents and moguls and artists thinning the gossamer veil. Nimrod fell before Babylon’s gates, as his dream

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Insignificant

  The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief, Hilary Stanton Zunin                       You think small but inside this house you’re too much body, all elbows, knees and hollow heart banging against hard walls   And when the ache in his voice his words, echo inside your head like discordant church-chimes

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