imagination experiments of a stardust yogini
“translation” of 57 by the Sixth Dalai Lama–Tibet (1683 to 1706) Glaze thrash of tongues under dark moon salt water ripple stained rub rusty ring rang like minced groans the bang shook away our youth original poem 57 bya de khrung khrung dkar mo nga la gshog rstal gyar dang thag ring rgyang la mi […]
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I was in love with the expansive transcendence music offered me. I am still in love with the expansive transcendence music offers me.
Read More6. TV
Imitation hovers in your electrical space.
The masses want to be what you (re)present
but now, you only reflect the couch.
7. Candle
Jar of wax – oh, fuck man!
Black wick burnt
and Brad Pitt’s on heroin.
Mother Soap is generally depicted in literature and book illustration as Slather ,an elderly sideways country woman in a flouncy hat and shawl, but is sometimes depicted as a gargoyle.
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A true story/poem. Our realities were so different – my tiny preferences had a dystopian twist to them for my then-husband. There were not many days after I said “I will” that did not find new odd buttons of despair – they were strange days indeed.
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I will miss the red orange glow of sunset, long purple shadows and turtle doves and rabbits, the smell of creosote and orange blossoms, I will miss looking up at the sky and seeing a million stars.
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holly troy ~ sacred folly 