Collage by Gerardo Gomez
Daniel Berrigan’s motto for the Nicaragua mission,
‘Let’s test this thing called “soul”.’
I get. I too, get the irony of following up such a precept with, “It was as simple as that.” How do we humans, what with our flesh and religions and legal-ese, starved souls and designer denim and bipartisan conquistadors, Read More
Art by Paul Gosch
Lord help to console hearts in this hour of grief on this day where hideous laughter comes too soon like junk to help us forget — not feel — pain. What is the word, this queer expression of thwarted happiness? Read More
Painting by John Larriva
Let this year be a love affair with lyrics. About 80% of my music library is comprised of instrumental music –classical, mimimalist, ambient, ‘world’, jazz—and of the remaining 20%, I’d say half of it is written in a foreign language of which I have little to no comprehension. I rely on the chord progressions, melodies, and harmonies Read More
We have a glitterhead in our midst, an Act of God.
Originally posted on Seeds of Syntropy:
Full circle—the world really is changing. I know because I’ve been there and remember how it felt just before the ‘big bang,’ the orgasm, the branching into the true unknown. Read More
Don’t say it, lest they put you
With nothing to write with and
No intake paper to tear up into small pieces to make kinesthetic words
The sponge tooth brush they give you
Having no bristles
To rip out and make words Read More
I’m a ragdoll, carried by my God
I hear Jesus speak
Speak in a language I do not know
He takes my limp hand in his
Looks at my thumbnail
Addresses the atoms by name
They are neither male nor female
Like God or colors Read More
Photo: Joan Fontcuberta
The mind fragile; he crosses an ocean and all disintegrates into order.
Into her arms he goes; rip, decision, spill. Freeing the border.
The old line awakens into dance, A New One! The rhythm spins.
The beat of every blue shade. Simple: A new wor(l)d begins. Read More
Singing with Dad
Whether my desire for your blessing derived from goodness or from sin,
It was never to be compromised.
In my passion for the human heart did I sacrifice my own?
In the spaces of all the years of lonely writing I might solve the unrelenting mystery: