Simply questions

What has value

to you, to others? What has most

value, and who says? What for

instance does the media, the

many medias suggest,

insinuate, or flat-out

tell you to hold dear?

What does your church

tell you and how about

your God or gods and incidentally

your family, school, peer

groups, your nearest friend

or beloved spouse– what do you

treasure after all

the dollars are counted

missing, small hours spent

living both together and

apart– what do you count

on your fingers, cross your

heart, on your toes, your tongue?

What do you uphold in words and act on?

Where do you, yes, yourself follow through

most dependably? Where are you truly

go-to? Where do you live, and where

is your cherished holy place?


Sylvie Potato Léon

… was in the process of becoming a troll—at least in part literally. She spent a solid chunk of most evenings voraciously scrubbing away at her foot-soles with sharp implements of abrasion. This followed the course of family propensity in rending of flesh—her mother had preceded her, picking at chapped and peeling lip skin until it bled and the Aryan dermatologist threatened unseemly grafts. Thereafter her mother maintained a ready supply of oral lubricants stashed liberally in strategic locations throughout the house—telephone table, kitchen odds and ends drawer, and, in the one place that to Sylvie signified the woman’s ultimate departure from acceptability and perhaps even awareness of any such boundaries, the front guest lavatory.


We hosted an “artbecue” grilling + art play night with heidi and justin as game participants. There was papier-mâché happening, y’all. Damn straight and darn tootin’ with meats off the barby and beers as you oughta.


This here’s some Morning After snapshots. Ah, the glow.