Author: Theodore Cottingham

I love you. How can I say it more crowdedly, not, or shall “life” not crowd me out anymore, of you. You bring me now? …

My words are me. They carry my energy, what I am, substance of me. Sharing me I share my words, sharing my words I share …

How can I love you, more. Do I know your name? Do I know where you live? Have I sat at your table? Felt your …

Is it all coming to a clashing close, or a new beginning? New beginnings me ‘s my name, closure bringing to things not few. Many …

I want the white light, the pure perfect, pristine perfect, crystal clear growth of me. I am am. Am’d by me I am all things …

This is the day, this is the time, of my appearing? Of me being me, my being me, my me’ing me. Have I done it? …

It’s a new day. And it’s all a new beginning of. New things me ‘s my name. I love you, is my name, love loved …

Ridiculous not, it all comes crashing down, the feet of me, not, but the head that passed as notme, not, but me thinking it was …

A diascribe not, a monoscribe not; but all Israel will write about Israel now, being among the stars, not circumscribed by the havenots that want …

Who will let me know them as I want to know them, deeply, interpenetratingly, penetrating the most asunder parts of their mind. Their brain? Stems, …