Spontaneously written and completed in one week after a powerful geomagnetic storm in late spring in the city of Philadelphia during which an Empty Duck recorded everything in order as it came to hand. Be warned! These eclectic koan like verse are the expression of a rascal in the lineage of the hand bitten and equivocal Norse son and skáld poet, Týr. They may just leave you feeding the hand that bites you! some may delight some offend still others fall flat the sower simply reaches into my bag of weeds scattering his seed this way and that whatever may grow is only in your mind In his essay "Poetry in Buchenwald", Jacques Lusseyran writes, "I learned that poetry is an act, an incantation, a kiss of peace, a medicine. I learned that poetry is one of the rare, very rare things in the world which can prevail over cold and hatred. No one had taught me this." These texts are designed to nourish the desire to live, to make it burn, and as a balm to treat the most dire of illness so present today: despair. Will you heed this call to adventure and vanquish your own dragons here and now!?!
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