Marty Graws

need more than words!









2 hr podcast that digs into the awesomeness of Louisiana music - including that related to Mardi Gras
right here

Whisky Dreams!

Spiritual Forefathers

Hubble and the heart

a void

avoided likened to

bivalves' secret

quickening pearls secretions

shut tight in a bubble galaxy of

creamy pixilated mollusk husk

mystifying Hubble captures

snap emergings dividing

decayings diverging

implodings opposing flash

force no mortal could muster

tucked and folded

bundled up neural networks beyond measure

highways to the moon and more wrapped

back in the corporeal cranial

double design in real time

a dash of Carlos Casteneda's

hey baby I can help you heal that

ephemeral hole

meshed

the mess of wholeness and the liberated vein

transcendence everlasting everliving love

ad infinitum and all that

here, here the concrete

slam your hand with a hammer and

damn

that hurts

notion not inescapable

give it some time, baby

give it some time

that light may reach you yet

things always spinning you never even mess your pretty little head about

the heart as a collection of cells

three weeks in the making begins to beat

spontaneously

with no provocation but the onset and onslaught of time

relentless fractionless time, baby

ever so subtle

the change in the neverending conquest of

light versus dark, the difference, the spectrum, the circle, baby

ya dig?

[CASH 2.09]

love,

c

Lovely, Dark, and Deep...

Richmond, for the past month or so, has had a serious cold. It's kept almost everybody indoors, save for only a few. I haven't felt temperatures this low in the city in years; it's ghostly, watching the steam fall into the blue sky from the top of your head. Families who are lucky enough to own their homes in the Fan are definitely using their fireplaces, because you can smell the wood burning.

I call it a breath of fresh air. I want to see the changing of the seasons. So many people are ready for Spring, and I can't blame them. How awesome it's going to be in only a month or so: rocking shorts and a bandana, kicking up some warm dirt on the Buttermilk Trails and Forest Hill Park with a bottle of water and a camera hung around my torso. But I don't mind waiting. It's beautiful. Let it snow.

- Chris

beards 1.0

alan moore