Zaza: Words played for a while and then they got tired, mired in the quagmire of fancy images. Whoever heard the story they had their tongue tied. The Wulf Moon smiled at its show-and he passed the baton to the Blue Moon-for marathon had many laps yet to go.
Logos: There were two people throwing dirt at each other. One of them had a violet kite’s tail between his teeth and it took him into the mouth of madness. Then he disappeared and nobody heard from him ever again.
Zaza: Dear master, sometimes I see the light traversing through the countenance of dakinis. I see the beautiful face of Shakyamuni Buddha in their face: an expression of oceanic awareness and profound compassion. Continue reading “The Wulf Moon!”