the rain is in winter

how can you discuss psychosis?
some sense of self identity is needed
spilling my life into cankered vessels

its all in transistions
and not dead flat

taking my life in your shape
you crucifying sons of bitches
toni,  john loori

stopped to look at some iris's on the way to town yesterday... four or five rows going down the hill for about 200 meters, pink.. white.. purples.. blues.. yellow..

black twirls

wound together in an oval shoot

how the petal shoots are an indescribable black and fill out to dark purple as the flower folds out..