Eidetic, 2025

Love brains. And glasses. Impecunious Poet/Artist, lost in a welter of creation in the mountain wilds of Tres Piedras - amid lynxes and cougars and bears, and with the constant and valued counsel of Mr. Underwood, the rabbit under the cabbin. Insanely cerebral and maniacally sentimental. Affectionate, but irretrievably independent. Looking for someone cerebrally wild, thrumming, and similarly distended by the heart and mind's crazy colloquy; someone as sentimental and empathetic as they are reflective, and maybe even a bit too wistful - as inclined to frolic mad and nude under the moon as she is to stare at the wall pondering quantum peculiarities; a rapaciously Brainy, Rose-Sniffing, Stargazing Wingnut on the verge of derangement from the existential strain of it all (If you've read "Orlando" and relate deeply to Orlando and Shelmerdine, we'll be pals).

Satie's "Gymnopaedie" upends me, immerses me in the amniotic.

Woolf is outta sight.

You're still reading, must be batty.




Dreamer, rise!


at the golden glyphs

in the woods


This is both your hymn

and the panes of the house


that bore you........

Yuh, that was poesy.



Alright, I digress, I sublimate. It's late, the night pulled taut and all manner of lunescence thrown to the wind.

g'night