Dirt Shaman Of the dust and dirt – Born to: Hurt Ardent hardened Icy winds – Archers of The Arctic. All upon the heart Pulsating in The dark. Whispering flames of The art. Born to be A rocket. From the very Start. Of the Heart. The third eye That doesn’t lie Reading the pentacles of The oracles ***Cipher Poems ***

Coming to terms with the self, in ways unique to the self days over days. Seekers seek the self. Stealth in a wealth of shadows. The mist of this hallucinatory height Is made of: Mountain. This pen a font of Fountain. Chips pushed forward lips speaking onward to the seeking: Stalwart Poet. You fuckin know it. World I Set on Fire ***Cipher Poems***