j o h n  r o s

at the moment of decision, indecision, waiting for the books from the shelves of pine and cinderblock to speak to me. mis-marked time, mis-associated, misunderstood? words do mean much to those speaking them. as we speak we cast spells, marking the moments to our right and to our left — with passersby and audience members finding just how powerful words are.
in the confused state of only eleven days to go — in this perpetuated shield or glass tower or house finding much to ask and little to answer. these points help to define the other around us. it has been almost three weeks and for the first time the ugliness of old has reared its head. i thought there would have been freedom from it, but alas, there it was, looking me in the eye, winking only to taunt, only to hate. “welcome demon.”
the grey was again a place of solace. a place that would keep me coming back in the race to complete the show. it was going to be an end of an era, but it already seemed as though it was long gone and the way to the new has already not only started, but had been in full swing. the cusp would be important though. it would be the cusp that would help end the last period and define the new. for the cusp was a home of birth, which allowed there to never be a cuspal issue again. what was possible if even anarchists could be satisfied with the status quo?