again, movingi will be submitting work to be published. therefore, i might be taking down most, if not all of my work, if it is deemed that it can not be previously published. so goodbye, significant part of deviantart, part of my love, part of where i first ventured my small possibilities. i don't know, but i do, that i must write, must expand, must go mad and come back, or perhaps never. perhaps, just go, and go, and go, never to return. the woods refuse no man. so be it to california, or minneasota, or delaware, i am going. goodbye.
Newest
born on tuesday'so that is the continental divide,' i said. 'huh.' quick, we must be done with the dream before she returns. take the children, one by one, daughter by adam, son by sun. on this my side, everything that falls will run eventually west to the pacific. just a couple feet away, all rain runs to the atlantic. i feel at home here. it makes sense. i prefer natural boundaries to those conceived by man. rivers, ridge edges, ranges - these are the lines i obey. these are the only lines i see, the only boundaries that keep me.born on tuesday
by ~skydream
the wormhole tapes44444444444444444444121 `q (says the cat)the wormhole tapes
in a dinner at the table and it is time for lessons in spacetravel.
my mother pulled down a worn three-ring binder of hand-copied pages of old reminders
five-by-five sodokku grids containing arrangements of quantum numbers
(n=1 1s2, n=2 2s2 2p6, n=3 3s2...) that directed in space to what you should do
these grids contained some spaces of an unsolvable problem of improbable graces
that given certain starting conditions one can get so far before multiple solut
by ~skydream
the marshmallow testthe wrinkled old man escorts me in to the hollow white-on-white room, clock reading 2:15 motions for me to sit in a wooden chair, too tall for my taste,the marshmallow test
too tall for me to touch my feet to the linoleum floor. across the table he opened a folder, clicked his pen, and stared at me over dingy glasses
'well,' he drawled. 'let's begin. what's you're name son?'
'chris!'
'and how old are you christopher?'
'eight!'
'well, christopher, do you like marshmallows?'
i do not tell him i do not like their chalky texture and impl
by ~skydream
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Eric Daoust Photographer
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Eric Boutilier-Brown
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Peace and Blessings,
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Joi Carey Portrait/Fine Art Photography
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There are no good girls gone wrong, just bad girls found out- Mae West
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