The Partaking

The coming legion, she said {in radiant, radical optimism] would convert the myriad pyramids into one sphere – more in keeping with our place here in the universe It would be a green party with no pin or tailnipped beast or blindfolds just a colourful feast and the music of birds in the trees and …


kinda like goin’ to the movies

Unwashed linen sky just before the birch sheds its last leaves Slick negative of time-lapsed lightening in a starry night - what's white is black and what's black is white Trick image has caught me on its hook compels me to say oh look What does it mean? Nothin'. Just a funny scene. . .

multitudinous silly bells in their magnanimity

opalescent tentacular slithering....surreptitious subliminal leviathan auricular rape of that last vestige of slumber's serenity dictatorial prevarications - a pulchritudinous plethora of metallic mellifluity testing my morning mettle with metallic anglo-saxon accents - always on Sunday . .


The wrinkled old leaves had been swept away but a wind came this morning with a new array all were golden - not a one was brown - cheerful as jonquils tumbling down - a forecast of spring to soften the blow of the oncoming frost and (hopefully) snow . .