Quan Tum Jung

shadows, dusty dancers

lunar thrust of our partners waltz

realigning us, until human love is our purpose and our resolve


buddha of the race

we were children. sprinters of the school. back when the winner of the race was fastest to the finish line.  it’s different today. the slowest to the finish line is crowned victorious, last one there wins. on your marks, get set, go! someone challenged me to a race of this nature, a long time ago.

i. 3.8010 — ‘phoria

no one can stop the babblin’ ,  ghost of  ‘ol John P.

dial 1-88 complex Sabbatical,  thoughts toboggan out a spiel machine.

magna-data reels steam rolled, repaved by the tao Te ching.

we hide in forests til the War breaks out. House of spades. Blade of the Queen.

lean back, listen to the Moon telling me to gas up a lantern.

I see your ante, raise you eleven of these pretty chips.

I will hold your hand in this Vortex.

Hot Gargantuan slum of millenium kids

Iron maiden media mash-up

meta-chimp metropolis