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Specters in the Dark A cry, a soundless wail in the distance Calls, seeking relief, redress Images, memories emerge, awaken Wanting to enter Wraith at the horizon, the boundary of vision Treads, leaving no prints except those familiar pathways in my soul I grieve the dead I mourn the now cold life that was Ought…

Asked for a theme and some words from the audience.  Got Dirty Laundry as the theme and the words stains – spots – spit – worn. Took a few minutes and jotted down what follows.  Davis had a new program he was playing with to get a piano sound out of his guitar.  Will work…

Perfection is not in the form but rather in the thing itself.  The Hallelujah erupts from within the intercourse between the sacred and the profane.  The light breaks through the cracks in the darkness. – Plato (the younger)