The Belladonna Document

Hold me closer, tiny dancer..

 "Well, he's been here before."     Multiplication of identities.  Division of duties.  Addition of color and sound.  Subtraction of pain and loss.    I will string some words together as I often [quantum ally] do.  I trust the wisdom to lead by example.I have no secrets.     Driving while waiting for forever to come I have been amused used and abused.  I commune with the gatekeeper. Tastes like heaven.   A secret conviction led to a perfect vision of reality.  Only art can correct accidents of pure perfection.  On the stage of the hidden knowledge every fact can be reinterpreted, every ending can be changed.   Did you know that Dickens rewrote Great Expectations so that Pip could be happy?  We are building castles in the air.  Nothing is the heart of what we share.  Muttering dead languages, bloodshot gunmetal eyes unforeseen flashes of brilliance change pronouns in the middle of our language.     Coming from the mouth of destiny arrives a full-blooded absence of purpose.  With a destructive mind - madness in the great ones covers a deep investment in abstractions.     The greatness of a grand design - A math matrix reflects us doubling back for the first time.  Imposing meaning into the violence, the beautiful chaos of love between man and woman inside a feathery explosion.  The only things people can ever know about you are the ones that you let them see.  Only we are shadows within our own club.  Just as Zeus went to Leda for protection, my swan is taken.  Not yet near the end.. but getting closer.  Much closer.

The Index of Refraction


A broken piece of the moon whistled a hole in the night, as I remembered you.

I peer through a glass at the actual workings of the clockwork universe.

It cannot be a coincidence, the lightning fast images clouding my feral mind.

Time, there is plenty of time, start the record again, but slow it down.

It like having the whole thing under glass.  This happened.

This is what happened.  This...and this...and this, too.

I was wearing big pink roses and a schoolgirl blush.

Not even the chair heard the commotion when I broke the lamp.

There is a story here about a balancing act of some kind.

Face to face or back to back the dark and light are One.

It was on a day like today that they first saw the ghosts.

They could have been Gregory Corso and William Burroughs.

One part Elegance and two parts Danger.. turning an old truth

Into a new myth involves the bonding of long division and physical manifestation,

Clearly positive, yet momentarily negative, I must walk on with a conscious grace.  

I've been gazing deep into the mirror of infinity.

The future of our science relies on the clear white mirror.

Uncommon knowledge abounds.  There are ribbons in the sky.

Lighting bright, alive with shattered wish fulfillment.

Strange days have gone by, lucid under a pink and yellow sky.  Yet,

The rage of a storm approaches, warm and vital, a birds eye view.

Uncommon knowledge arrives, instrumental to the light,

A clash of geniuses reinventing the impossible.

The scientific origin of poets.

Need no sound of birds, no light of sun or moon

An outline of an island, lemon sun, raspberry moon

A filet of stars surround me now, glass like water.

[Note:  In optics the refractive index (or index of refraction)  of a substance

(optical medium) is a number that describes how light, or any other radiation,

propagates through that medium.]