past these paling gates where vines grow, now thick as paste. there is no grace in her ascent. a toothless warrior crowns with cardboard and souls alight from treachery past these empty streets when gold meant something, now tossing jaundiced hue. subtract that from forever. a dirty mob chants garbage, ...Read More

this vision needs forgiven

Nick informs us that Jean Baudrillard has died, and he us points to one of Baudrillard's incisive aphorisms, As for ideas, everyone has them. More than they need. What counts is the poetic singularity of the analysis. That alone can justify ...Read More

Poetic Singularity of the Analysis