where the writers are

June 22






I put myself on the auction block and wait to see how high a rate I will have to pay to become slave to my illusions.  I have worked so ardently to free myself from past enslavements and here I stand naked on this block, selling myself and hoping I will fetch a price.  Poisonous pedagogy is atomized, contained in every breath, I don’t know how to live apart from it and thus I stand waiting to be bought.  It no longer matters how I got up here the first time, for who cares that slaves enslave.  All that matters is that there seems no safe way off this block or out of this web, or down this street; the world seems a bad neighborhood everywhere I turn.  Yet I must admit that standing here affords a view I would not have if I were buying.  If I am slave I can have hope of someday being free, if I am owner what hope might there be?




Manage your behavior







Fear pays the way for my disease to enter.

Once inside fear seats itself front and center

Fear is the currency that allows entrée to the far reaches,

The coinage is ancient and steeped in tradition.


There is no time or place

Which hasn’t been moneyed with fear

And it’s derivatives I can’t hide from

So my job must be to educate fear.


Fear is real

And has a place as protector and warning

But fear expands with ignorance

And devalues the purpose of caution.


Fear cannot buy safety

Though I can use it

To pay the toll

Across the bridge to balance.