The soul of the king an out-of-tune lyre with harpstrings for guts – many sharps and flats. Sent by the LORD the holy pneuma's hand...

By the Sound of a Voice After a long silence that seemed An eternity, There came a turbulent noise, A spirited noise. No, it was a...

Fichte / Picture There is nothing real anywhere, neither outside of us nor in us. I know of no being at all. Not even myself. Images...

Artful Agaze, the artist is beset by eros Of no vulgar kind. Crossing the chorismos, He takes his tools, kneads and forms And sculpts....

Environed by varying degrees of space,   (depending on where you draw the line),   a poem is a picture of the artist's mind on a...

Yehudah, I Make You Mine From out of the banks of the muddy  Jordan River, I make you  Mine.  Into shape I press the grit, into shape I...

In the beginning was the Wyrd . A story of weirding words and the poet fluttered his pen over the ink. What comes to pass has passed and...