a través de la pantalla de las sombras

Habby Pirthday Briars Flog!

some poem:

today a song came through the radiator
an open throat of dry tin took a drink
and sung like a flag holding on by one clip
i washed two black shirts in the bathroom sink
there was talk of Pindar, a monumentalist of sorts
the water looked like the sky before a storm
ten, twenty minutes to night
he always mentioned their names
and of who in myth he was reminded
i am like none other, except maybe
a sock escaped into a warm dryer

some more poem:

winding up the dice
passion to chance
like a web
earth in perfumed silence
a mirrored light
intuition groping
in a cave
be speckled with stars

some more more poem:

the last car pulls the air in closed behind it
like inhaling
rolling to rest people come out
a warm cloud drifting towards
other each others
trains on separate tracks
sometimes love seems
a telescope away
which way is it going

more more more poem:


some crude oval, adding another along side
two, almost sympathetic, nearly eyes
smaller circles inside, and in those
two more, one each tiny
through them all enormity
hearts, stars, circles, sympathetic ovals

& an announcement : In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg; Borges and then some.

also, sound familiar?:
"Experts who study political cults have observed that such groups thrive on an imagined enemy in opposition to which the group constructs it own collective identity. [He] had always encouraged members to believe they were the victims of mass conspiracies..."
Yeah, but this time its LaRouche. When groups wildly veer. A fuller accounting is here-- (the portal jumping through click...click...cli