November 27 by The Running Son


“Black Mortar and Pestle” sculpture by Zimra Beiner – click4source




To translate:

two single beings
tickling mystery, mingle
and subdivide into three;
a satellite math
swimming across frantic dimensions,
triangulating (at a guess)
where event horizons
might be.

Only if we
let mystery be mystery.
See history’s pestle inside! Aye,
we are but mortar,
and the air
a dusting of stars penetrating darkness;
womb with seed.





by Jim Aldrich

©2013 JimAldrich

All Poetry by RunningSon, aka Jim Aldrich

.namaste.   -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •-   .namaste.


6 thoughts on “∞•∞-Wormhole-∞•∞

  1. i would add abstact as can be and yet i know of worms tickling one another till an inquisitive bird alights cocks its head and stops them from becoming three hundred – jim

    • Mystical, abstract… I’ll accept those descripts. At least nobody called them crazy. Yet. ^_^

      • difficult to do that till you move from abstract to closing your eyes and throwing random colours on the canvas claiming that art must be allowed a natural momentum

        • I agree with you there. That is no longer art. And if it can be argued that the artist’s spirit projected past his closed eyelids to guide the paints… then I will credit the spirit. The man, I would encourage to, “step away from the fringe…there is plenty to be learned and plenty of styles available with two feet, and a mind, firmly grounded.” conventional does not mean secular, to shadow the reformation ethic.

  2. Sahm King says:

    There’s something…mystical…about your words, good sir.

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RFB editor Jim Aldrich, Joshua Tree CA 2013

RunningSon aka Jim Aldrich, Joshua Tree CA 2013 | This site is dedicated with the deepest gratitude to Dr. Cláudio Naranjo, whose writings gave me life.

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