I see us there together in Tomorrowland,
Beneath the giant mechanical seahorses,
I see that we’re lost in our dancing hand in hand
Inside music’s sensual supernature forces
As a deck wizard channels cosmic thunderbolts
Of seismic noise into and out through watts and volts;
Kalkbrenner, Paul, they’re saying this prophet is called
And by frequency and rhythm, he has forestalled
The meaning of time as we once thought we knew it,
Thus, as we meld and sway with ten thousand lovers
Our sliding grasp of past and future uncovers
The primal truth of our union woven through it.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018

Inspiration Wizard Kalkbrenner


The reds and golds of our only kiss
Still regale me in the mystical dream
Of us being the Aurora Borealis,
Holding ourselves in its cosmic stream
Of alien souls from stars far away
That shimmer in the quantum clutch,
Our lumens mingled in an exquisite way,
The light desirous of entanglement’s touch.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018


A visage arose and shone
Like the final drop of gold.
Behold, blink, it was gone
And those memories were old.

But then a glimpse again
In the corner of my eye,
A glittering speck and then –
Gone once more. But why?

Well, the answer is unknown,
For the elements do not choose
The vistas that are shown
To the souls with souls to lose.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018

Image Ellyn Bivin


I am thistle and kernel –
Mandala in blue kosmogonia,
Virus of a truth
So stark
So beautiful,
Flooding through the eye of light,

Synaptic phantasmagoria
Inside Us – The Beholders
Of space-time’s
Impossible intricacy
And the accidental glory
Of life.

How weak such endings,
Short of magnificence,
Yet our gods seem to do this,
Leaving us far short of perfection,
Not least against
The inexhaustible
And the limits of expression.

Vitriol of blue mandala,
All I have.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018


The mirror in the mirror
Of the endless reflection,
A cosmic-angel stirrer
Of the reds of resurrection,
And the wonder and fear
Of lives so precious and small,
Your light, refracting, nearer than near
Blinding, birthing the thrall
For which we long waited,
Crimsons and silks, dressed in black,
Souls thunder, breaths baited,
It’s here. It is here. There is no going back.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018

Show Me

Show me your monsters,
And I will give you no fear.
Give me your sorrows,
That I may catch your tears.
Lead me to your secrets,
Pray tender, there, I shall be.
Undress without compunction,
For only courage my eyes will see.
Place your dreams within my hand,
For you, I’ll guard and treasure.
Trust me with Time’s running sand
And I will love you beyond all measure.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018

Image Trish Wade


Write precisely what lies between
Meanings which have never been
Afforded to us despite perceptions –
Our deluding cognitive deceptions,
So blinded by conceptions of reality
Devoid of the Truth of the temporality
Which is too frightening and too hard
To know in jagged shadows of the shard
Of broken light on this humdrum existence;
Here. Go. Write. Pierce through with sheer persistence
Until all the funnelling words have extricated
You from the false meanings Mankind created.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018