Tuesday, August 16, 2011

on the road

Under this motel, concrete; and under that scab, the land. A single pulse. From the cum-stained black box of the Troubadour to the imperial balconies of the Fillmore, we can't help but be of one mind. Just as the women cleaning the room where we've chased Benadryl with whiskey are singing; so are we, from our atolls of isolation, singing. The song of whatever it is to be living, in a particular skin, one among many, animated by the great pulse of the land. A record of our attempts. All the awful driving toward immortality.~Lisa Wells

No comments:

Post a Comment


Abe's Axe is a symbol. Like the firey wand of Hermes, it is the conduit for bringing into action manifestations from the creative imagination. He is not killing vampires so much as freeing living dead men. The great emancipator would like to bring you into the 4th dimension of consciousness. He is going to have to kill you to do this, though. Or, actually, just annihilate your ego to transport you. In this instance, his axe is the craft. A craft is both a transport and a skill. The magician's wand is both. A pen can be mightier than the sword. What's your craft? Use your symbol well. . .

Heal The King!

Heal The King!