21 May 2017

 When night closes her eyes, day is
imagined; when dawn blossoms, the moon is
 gently blown out.
sometimes the world simply needs to
 shut the fuck up and let the
comets have their day.

 Sometimes a firefly illumines all the known
galaxies; why limit your choices? all of
 this lives inside us; why go about
business-as-usual when the butterflies are
 calling your name?

 As long as one is breathing, one’s
choices are illimitable; and when
 breath stops, the possibilities are
multiplied by the number of
 stars upon the night’s mantle.

 And this, my friend, is why I
drink—because the Night drinks with
 me—and oh, the places we go!

20 May 2017

 Art is an attempt to create order from
chaos. Chaos always wins. But we
 make art anyway.


20 May 2017

 I stand accused of believing that God
speaks to me: belief has nothing to
 do with it—I’m not a big believer in
belief—must I believe the sky is
 blue or that day follows night?

 Secondly, I know for a fact that God
speaks to everyone—it is simply that
 very few people choose to listen;
do you hear those crickets in the
 night? (Good, now dive deeper.)

 The Truth is resting on your
eyelashes, tickling your sensitive
 parts; of course God speaks to me—
we have been Lovers since before
 time was time.

 Of course God speaks to me—that ,
isn’t the point:
 Shhh, listen! the birds are calling, the
mountain rumbles, the stars buzz like
 bees; listen: