Social-Psychosis: When a given society exhibits signs of unreasonable delusions & harmful attitudes while disregarding logical cures. GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 04/03/2020

“... bitter as are my recollections of slavery, it is a true pleasure to recall any instances of kindness, any sunbeams of humane treatment, which found way to my soul, through the iron grating of my house of bondage.” - Frederick Douglass Every white person in America please read Life and Times of Frederick Douglass....

There Is No Hill To Understanding. GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 02/09/2020

Barbie is naked in the yard again. Next to the melted microwave that burnt her house down, almost. The highway traffic is fast, heavy, pounding, and unconcerned. And there is no trace of her. GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 02/09/2020

At rise: A handsome grizzly adjusts his bow-tie, grinning at a makeshift mirror hanging off a blue spruce, before sauntering down to the town where humans live.

The first inkling: Cephalopods use their ink for self-concealment. Cyborg-cephalopods, however, (which we are certainly most concerned about within this realm) are not only using electric-ink for self-concealment but also for self-realization.

Even her eyes vanished. Memory slips like: in the dead night we all stroll around a vast parking lot one streetlight a town of blue dreams another forgetter swimming in the head obscure nightmare time a low-tide of information barely recall those features she was an apparition she must have been even her eyes drowned. GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 10/3/2019

"This mere word, spaced without space, affirming beneath all affirmation, impossible to deny, too weak to be killed, too docile to be contained, not saying anything, only speaking, speaking without living, without voice, in a voice lower than any voice." - MAURICE BLANCHOT

I shrug for what? The atrocities persist. When shall we forget the corpses piled in the ditch? Glory glory to us and our gravestones buried. Glory glory to us to block out the dead eyes wished not to wake. Glory glory to us to march on the tilled dirt until dried veins beat not to a hollow. GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 8/18/2019

The lady in a periwinkle hoodie, with eyes of a goat, stares, nods, then continues to murmur with hands out barely hovering over the smooth fur. Limp then startled, the blinking creature comes awake out of it with 2 pupils shocked by light. GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 8/11/2019

"What a hurricane. Gravitas. Wondering inside circles. All a sloppy walk. Space does not weave us, yet we grab aimless. A strange card flips. A hammer hits another nail." GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 8/4/19

Wardships windswept shore to shore wornweather planks blood dripped in the knots wild all in wisdom’s wastes cool pigeons know passing over water scarred orbs warlds of mobs multimimetica the windigo of the mirror. Are your moraleaves graveworthy? These clothes have no bayonet holes so I wear away. GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 7/28/2019

jar [ jahr ] / dʒɑr / noun A wide-mouthed container that is usually cylindrical, made of glass or earthenware, and without handles. Also: jarful the contents or quantity contained in a jar. British informal; a glass of alcoholic drink, esp beer: to have a jar with someone. (obsolete) a measure of electrical capacitance. On a jar or on the jar (of a door) slightly open; ajar. A jolt or shake; a vibrating movement, as from concussion.