(1)

death, mistress
I will never court thee
but yet I am subject to your whim
left to fend off your crop
I will not give in –
willingly
or say your name
with reverence
death, mistress

(2)

on the randomness of moths
and their addiction to flame
just because I can not discern a pattern
does not mean their commotions are not plain

notes… two unrelated works, written on the same day on different sides of my brain, the first one I consider a circular poem, the second just a thought, maybe just brush strokes really, but that’s fine, a little nug of truth beats a mountain of nothingness any day… or at least that is the story I am sticking to… thanks for the view (yes, you).

music? Humanmeshdance – Moth…. from a really limited EP, I forget how many copies were made at the time, but this… is the digital age so…. ambient goodness…. oh so good…