mirror mask

Here's what's going on:

The world is a mirror.  Art is a mirror.

Everything I think, everything I feel, everything I want, everything I fear is reflected back at me.  It takes form in the faces of people, in the sounds of their words.  A great, undulating miasma rolling like clouds across the face of god.

Opinions, exegeses, antagonists, and fates--all tales pinned on a very plain donkey.

As if there could be a plain donkey...

These are the days of great unhinging.  My Tower is falling.  A riotous surge of tongues arises.

I wish I could tell you what it's like here. 

It would only be more words.

Funny it seems I'm speaking in riddles, in poetry, but I am not.

Nothing is hidden.  I am clear, fresh, open.

I accept it all.

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...