The Bonzer Dharma. I need this manual.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
Somewhere in this universe, people are surfing...
On waves, in water, over sand, rock or living organisms...
Somewhere in this universe, beings are surfing...
On waves, in molten metal, over diamonds, stalagtites, or multi-armed protectors...
Somewhere in this universe, surf vehicles glide and carve, plane and trim, leaving wakes of rainbows and giggling little fish...
On waves, in plasma, over gravity fields, primeval planetary assemblies, or celestial orbs...
Somewhere people surf, beings surf and vehicles carry them along...
Just not at Bolsa Chica Tower 21, not today, not in any way that is memorable other than for its lack of form or energy...
Just not at Bolsa Chica Tower 21, which has been reduced to a solitary pillar of orange, connecting invisibly to ghosts of sessions past...
Just not at Bolsa Chica Tower 21, where dim echoes of days now ended gurgle under the flood, in the pools where waves just die...
On waves, in water, over sand, rock or living organisms...
Somewhere in this universe, beings are surfing...
On waves, in molten metal, over diamonds, stalagtites, or multi-armed protectors...
Somewhere in this universe, surf vehicles glide and carve, plane and trim, leaving wakes of rainbows and giggling little fish...
On waves, in plasma, over gravity fields, primeval planetary assemblies, or celestial orbs...
Somewhere people surf, beings surf and vehicles carry them along...
Just not at Bolsa Chica Tower 21, not today, not in any way that is memorable other than for its lack of form or energy...
Just not at Bolsa Chica Tower 21, which has been reduced to a solitary pillar of orange, connecting invisibly to ghosts of sessions past...
Just not at Bolsa Chica Tower 21, where dim echoes of days now ended gurgle under the flood, in the pools where waves just die...
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