THE MEDIUM

The Paper, now separated from itself, the visions behind the halves move far away, the words for thoughts vanish like the thoughts themselves, and unsupported, the thin textures fall into the ink of being, and crumbled, become a black, fibrous mass of what may have been. The edge has severed two likenesses from one, and nothing remains of either but this clumping memory.                                  Dust to Dusk by Sampson-Carroll

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wherever you look, there you are......

China radio sunshine by Psychetropic

In with the good air, out with the bad.........

GIOTTO'S COLLAR  Clinging to remnants of the fabric of childhood,  with associations contrived to give new meaning,  reversing the inexpressible praeternatural longing  that stymies the logical devices of youthful process thinking, aged children, drooping petals of spent flowers, call to figments of their past,  grasping for understanding,  compassionate renderings of their own histories,  the completion of grounded dreams and expectations, the revelations of constructs that are but fabrications of necessity. Unspoken by Jami Sieber