The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
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This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reade...
Tom Lubbock, writing in The Independent (friday 15 May 2009) returned to the age old topic of censorship in the arts. Well, in painting act...
Saturday, 14 July 2012
It has been a lucky break.
After reaching my breaking point
and nearly breaking down in front of him.
Then breaking out in a cold sweat
Then thinking him about to break my dream
when he became emotional and his voice broke.
"How can I break this to you...?" he began.
"Go for broke!" I said. He did!
In the dream, lost and hungry in an overgrown brake,
I had broken off a succulent and eaten it.
At once strange body parts had broken through my skin.
I had consumed the Devil's Breakfast and would never die.
The Doc broke in upon my thoughts: "You have three years!"
Such relief! Immortality would have broken me for sure!