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More from ~epimetheus

On the Necessity of Losing
On The Necessity of Losing

I realized recently, after an evening at my local weekly that being good at poker is not what I thought it was.  It is not like hitting a golf ball or throwing a spiral.  There is no muscle memory involved that practice will hone, no flip of the wrist to master or perfect.  Which is not to say that there is no technique per se, only that the technique of good poker is capitalizes on other more subtle skills than I am used to recognizing in the midst of competition.

Every beginning poker text will tell you that a basic knowledge of card and odds calculation is necessary to be successful at poker, everything else is
Interstellar Love Song
Interstellar Love Song

The signal was lost long before
it dripped from her lips
static scattered the song
before she plucked the strings
and sent it spinning into the sun

Her metaphors
simple as unfinished furniture
burned in the blind heat of that itenerant star
and that Kentucky twang straightened
in the unforseen pull of a polarised meteor
intersecting it outside of Sirius

By the time it settled in the shadow of a dying star
(burning burgandy in that ultramarine sky)
it had become something altogether different
than the song she'd sung that September

Its interstellar experiences
sheared certain sounds
leaving her voice
Exist
Exist

Because in this there is being
body and soul twisted
the basic form of existence
threaded together, existing forever
a cord of three strands
not easily severed
but lasts
a braid unbroken
despite the edges seeking to open
skin, spill blood and still spirit

And we hear it
in the sirens' song
midnight lights appearing
like long red sighs
on the sides of buildings
silhouetting the people peering
at passing squad cars and ambu-lances
crowds full of silence and sidelong glances
mumbling condolences while the devil dances
gleeful as happiness and safety
flee for safer sides of the street
where they might meet and flow
The Necessity of Handkerchiefs
On the Necessity of Handkerchiefs

He sat dreaming of elephants in the dark
a wispy fantasy, thin as smoke
hovering around his head
Its clean crisp corners
cut a cool white slit
through the heaviness of the heat
reminiscent, he thought
of a well pressed handkerchief
His lay rumpled and damp
in a limp hand on his lap
in his study, where he sat
dreaming of elephants of dark
Still Night Waiting
Still Night Waiting on Sleep

IStill Night Waiting on Sleep

It is difficult to sleep
when my breathing keeps breaking the ice
that has formed over the still surface of the room

(The wheeze of the rhythm's limping engine
fixed fan flowing through my throat)

It is impossible to rest
when each of my motions
is amplified by the shuffling of sheets
a disruption of your carefully balanced quiet

(The sound of you settling into bed is the roar of ocean
muffled by the distance of cliffs)

I know it's beneath your skin
like a fever passed through a splinter
the unavoidable sharpness of words
spoken without the bitterness of blades
cuts

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February 8, 2012
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:iconepimetheus:
:star: Don't forget to check out our kickstarter: [link] :star:

The first true card of the tarot (0 The Fool being a floating trump, belonging not to the tarot, but in reality containing it) is the Magician. The Magician’s planetary trump is Mercury, and from there he draws all inspiration. The god of thieves and commerce, Mercury is truly at home on the street, and taking money from people, using whatever means necessary in order to achieve his goal.

Read the rest here: [link]

:star: See all the cards and more at ChibiTarot.com! :star:

The Deck to Date
0 The Fool
I The Magician
II The High Priestess
IV The Emperor
IX The Hermit
XIII Death
XIV Temperance
XV The Devil
XVI The Tower
XVIII The Moon
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