Life games, music, magic and all the rest. Adventures of the fringe of the fringe amongst the.. "People's Republic of Brighton and Hove"

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perfect work // flash dimension

your trip man inflection

in perfect work of will, of

light and honeyshine,

of electric shimmer-spark like tracking, back/forth

always movement adaptation –

this energy seems like all things,

like a flash dimension and

Beings, us, and…

the layers upon layers

those layers, still a game in all out

war – an unknown – a flip switch to

scales so – those cliches thoth those

As Above So Below

And perfect but grasping, throwing, not

What self? Expendable in Love in

Not real, so, in.


You are me I know

But NOT and

You seem to know most things

Or All

And you tell me there’s no way

I can imagine how

Long and show me chariots

And hold my hand through the park.


This “I” shown clearly another layer

of work in response to question, that

mycelium strands, that pump-swirling main line

in which we were swept

Out, onwards, over there. We are sending

This to the seat of infection or


or injured and it is far away but

with us and it doesn’t matter but it is

our work and perhaps it isn’t real

but it is and our imagination

and this power and

we exist to…


But another stricture of play,

but another, but another

and the rituals we use to

will bring us in deeper,

will push us out further.

we, doing this now, we.


I want you to rest. To

not judge quickly,

I know this is your call, but



You – it’s not that it’s possible that it..

But I worry, and

Everything we work with is infinite

and will die some day


I spoke to ~ for

days in social solitude

in a gaggle of alien crows


chiding me “I thought you liked

Paradoxes, kid? I’d never have

shown you if….”

But softly softly rough

my heart’s pores opens to wings and

I’m not a going concern,

a Will o’Wisp of


of Outside,


of Imagination.

and we Her warriors,

all apex intersection – each being as

make-belief as the flow of Light

that courses through

That channel tube,





We go all out in space shudders

and next time

I will allow it


I will dissipate completely

in that space, no holding

Credit: Larry Calson

Credit: Larry Calson

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youth of a thousand summers

The intersection has been experienced as all encompassing

and before I knew where to turn

on first glance – so much of it laid itself ahead


all around scatter – a spiral formation in a million shooting stars

starts and spit colour light

threads, to be woven into patterns by us.


A dance, the dance, THAT dance

to come of age, to come, to see you in her

sparkling eyes, to hear your voice all simple

to talk me through each

inflection, “hey, hey, a sip of water, a

leap over the


precipice, hey, hey… NOW….” To open wide mind

like bish bosh you young gay boy,

you paragon of womanhood !

You, lover, you


As a kid I never wanted to be queer

I feared my strange sex, I

found it shameful in myself

where I NEVER did in others. I watched

Frank-N-Furter and did not even.

All love and

empty of blame, I YEARNED

And yet I told myself again and again:

no, no someone to keep me sane

a sensible and

well no, I mean, a boy but ANY boy. I mean a boy

but only the BEST boy. I mean only one who

would never love me. I mean LOVE


and I mean only YOU (I mean you…)

and TITS and I mean to be a boy.


It was a confusing time, looking back.


But never known was

Always known was

I mean music, and a lost self in

Ecstasy. I mean that that was

always the thing. And that

you were, are, always. I mean that in a

golden freedom, in a light

touch, in a madness, in a screaming down the street

there are truths on

that dancefloor,

in those mountains. There is peace.

There are eternal moments