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these words

will never end

are compulsion’s pain

its creatures are need

written free

and from each hurt leads

to a path lit by joy

onto the next horizon

past it

again on

finding other another

each unstopping moment turning

ears of eyes eyes of ears

will hear see ignore love hate

all the same organ of urgency

vibrating embedded

in this living dream of now

where ticked time tics in no times

these words will never end




About a. edward watkins

With the exception of 2 years study of western music theory and harmony- I am a self taught percussionist, writer and abstract painter. Not your drummer boy drummer - not your writerly writer nor the painterly painter. Creativity is an integral aspect of my existence - as it is for us all - in some form or another. My experiences in life have informed and shaped my world view profoundly. I am the disrupter - the never quite satisfied - the relentless creator of word, sound and image. I question the answers and question the questions.

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