bill beaver

 

Our world is a factory

of constructed manufactured realities
a buyers market
take any one to start
maybe choose another later on
that fits certain lifestyle or career path curves
one just as good or bad as the other
it's what you can get from it that counts
wealth
power
sex
not anything as lame as meaning or truth
yet one can realize that all these are THEIR REALITIES
whoever the hell THEY are
& construct one's own
not easy
hard on the ol' gray folded lobes
wet lumpen eggshell box o' blood
hafta become a data miner
hafta galaxy clustered bits & ideas
measure multi-dimensional normed distances
find patterns scratched
weathered
fleeting like clouds
what do clouds tells you?
what does it say in the sky?
or in old dust?
pull back the bed
a bookcase
look right there among dog hair
& forgotten things
what do you see?
a pattern will emerge
it always does
because we fear as humans
more than anything else
a state of no connections
no patterns
no meanings
& will believe anything
at all costs
to avoid a void

 

Oh, hello doctor. Is it time for my meds?

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click for larger view
Tiny Leaves
Tiny Leaves
Parky Boy
Parky Boy
Light of Five
Light of Five
Katrina as Ghost
Katrina as Ghost
Scorpion
Scorpion


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Bill Beaver
Bill Beaver lives in Tucson, AZ w/two dogs amid the ruins of a 100 year-old house. His biggest ambition in life is NOT to become a bag lady.


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