Enter the ascension feed, modern mystical poetry that branches out weekly as reality bends and the muse goes galactic—original poems and translations you can feel, sing, and return to, no footnotes required.
I'm nothing but a pretty face, a sense of place,
a taste whose trace can base from wayward glance
a possibility - and then I see a woman
so at one with he - I'll water ski
in South Bay with no other.
