Secret wisdom.

Secret wisdom hidden in the music of waves easily decoded behind the eyes of a child. She wears the magic like a skin clinging to her existence without ego or ambition. Divination emitted between grains of sand stuck to her feet, lifting her as she dances. Only love of mom, dad, and the day. Swallowing…
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Bored. Everyone’s bored.

Bored Everyone’s bored. Believing the lies of those we despise. Delinquent in our shuffling horde. Blind Everyone’s blind. Ravaged and mourning, ignoring the warnings. Resting In what we can’t find. Sick Everyone’s sick. The original illness is growing in stillness. Numb and cut to the quick. Dream Everyone dreams. Believing it’s real in hopes they…
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All together.

I know you are hurting right now. So am I. Some days are easy; some days are hard. On days like this I remember my grandpa. He’d say, “On hard days, think about the people you love most. The friends and family around us, and those who have left us altogether.” I always heard the…
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Believe the lie.

It’s essential to believe in things that aren’t true at times. Not the lies founded in paranoia or hatred; that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m speaking of a belief in the unbelievable because that is where the magic lives. The kind of magic that reveals the virtue in humanity. I’m talking about believing we…
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The unrisking.

Damn the circus! …damn the fools, the dull, the motionless, the unrisking and selfish. Damn everything that enters the soiled tent and grinds that bitter organ. This round world needs you to drag your heart into the tension of its entire existence. Damn the circus.
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Art is dead.

Art is dead. All that’s left is a memory told out of context on a dusty shelf. Like sawdust, the residue of an event to be remembered by others. Art is dead. A recorded celebration of intuition. Waiting patiently to be reborn. A drop fallen from a leaf after a storm. Absorbed into soil and…
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In a time upon once.

In a time upon once, there was a land of sunlight and ashes. You could hear the harmony of whispers coming from the beautiful Sandgrouse. They picked at dry twigs and flapped tan wings at black flies. I huddle with her under the pupilless eye before the arrow pierced her breast. Her feathers flew as…
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Exhausted

I gather sea salt with lacerated hands and make a nest to sit in. I look into the empty sky and chew on blackthorn bushes and grapevines that have grown around my neck and died over the years. They splinter and crack and fall around my feet as I stand up and walk to the…
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