Magnetic minute
reconnected to the time
of track, I am back.
Image credit by National Archives and Records Administration of William Duncan c. 1916-17 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
“The diaries of opium-eaters record how, during the brief period of ecstasy, the drugged person’s dreams have a temporal scope of ten, thirty, sometimes sixty years or even surpass all limits of man’s ability to experience time-dreams, that is, with images thronging past so swiftly that, as one hashish-smoker puts it, the intoxicated user’s brain seems “to have had something removed, like the mainspring from a watch.”
My lips are sealed with The caulk of deaf ears. Born for this. Lessons to be learned as chapters Turned Over, like how to read our bodies ...