Writing

The Feather & The Faun

A poem about the relentless pursuit of knowledge and the warmth & comfort of the unknown. As written and performed for the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Go to site    

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The Feather & The Faun

A poem about the relentless pursuit of knowledge and the warmth & comfort of the unknown. As written and performed for the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Go to site    

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A Poem From the Future

THE TRANSHUMANIST’S LAMENT or TOO MANY RIVERS, NOT ENOUGH LAKES or OH, FUTURE — YOU SO CRAZY Written for the TEDblog series “Question Worth Asking.” Topic:  “How Weird Will the Future Be?” Go to site    

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A Poem From the Future

THE TRANSHUMANIST’S LAMENT or TOO MANY RIVERS, NOT ENOUGH LAKES or OH, FUTURE — YOU SO CRAZY Written for the TEDblog series “Question Worth Asking.” Topic:  “How Weird Will the Future Be?” Go to site    

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The Feather & The Faun

– for the Amygdala The Faun awakes amongst the trees- It’s bed a heap of molded leaves. It’s little head is still asleep and it is filled with dreams. ‘Til the world cracks open, once again To bleed for Life,

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The Feather & The Faun

– for the Amygdala The Faun awakes amongst the trees- It’s bed a heap of molded leaves. It’s little head is still asleep and it is filled with dreams. ‘Til the world cracks open, once again To bleed for Life,

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Open Palm & Sheltered Fist

The Rain, it falls upon the world- The World opens it’s mouth and yawns. And swallows up what must come down- Consuming countless dawns. Checks the mates of all the Pawns And draws the Knights upon the Rooks And topples

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Open Palm & Sheltered Fist

The Rain, it falls upon the world- The World opens it’s mouth and yawns. And swallows up what must come down- Consuming countless dawns. Checks the mates of all the Pawns And draws the Knights upon the Rooks And topples

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Strumpets & Heathens

Here is a tale now of madmen gone lost- Where angels and demons are found. Here is a list of the books that are burned, That are tossed to the side and unbound. This bone of a tale, This swing

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Strumpets & Heathens

Here is a tale now of madmen gone lost- Where angels and demons are found. Here is a list of the books that are burned, That are tossed to the side and unbound. This bone of a tale, This swing

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Lifting the Room with Your Fingers

There’s no feathers on the arrow, No it’s just a sharpened stick. There’s no sickness in your marrow, No it’s just a parlor trick. So let’s move into the next room then And wait for break of day. Let’s howl

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Lifting the Room with Your Fingers

There’s no feathers on the arrow, No it’s just a sharpened stick. There’s no sickness in your marrow, No it’s just a parlor trick. So let’s move into the next room then And wait for break of day. Let’s howl

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From Through Looking to Looking Through

What night is this upon my brain- A picture, plane to see. A window there, unto an ocean A square to go between. Life collects into the bowl, The doctor rolls his sleeves And shakes from limb to limb Much

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From Through Looking to Looking Through

What night is this upon my brain- A picture, plane to see. A window there, unto an ocean A square to go between. Life collects into the bowl, The doctor rolls his sleeves And shakes from limb to limb Much

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