The epochal zenith,
an explosion of creation...

After the dawn's metamorphosis
we taste the hard edge of living...

(Search Your Soul For What Makes You Whole)
I sit here and wage war on myself...

And I sit alone, writing
poems, stories, thoughts, & wanderings...

1.
the day was a leonard cohen song...

Awaken to a day
that is all paint-by-number...

The last footstep leaves the stairway
outstretcehed hands grasp the firmament...

In a swirl
of music and mood colours...

Academia is dead
and the street poets rule...

Moody milieu drifting
on a cool blue autumn wind...

The smell of incense burns
my nostrils like the sun\'s fire...

Now that it is over,
is there a lesson...