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daàPò is a writer slash a storyteller…

Pictorial prose or poetry is my way to document the supremacy of individual drive and the inexorable subsequent waves generating, our tongues as the first unit of measurement to communicate, cohabit, connect and/or affect and influence one another.

THE RANDOMS…  

KISS THE DUST |  LA MOTA & THE KINDAHUMANS |  AT THE CRACK OF DAWN |  MOONSHINERS  |  SOME CRAZY DUDE DRINKS A CUP OF TEA |    

A true story fresh from this morning


Daylight bursts forth. I awake fatigued, ring nails of days gone-by a horde of metallic ghosts hammered into my body. My material Self ascends from sleep, risen from overnight death, yet no lesser suicidal, muscles and bones haunted by contemplations of bedridden trances. Barefoot I stand, soles kissed by the cold floor verticality slapping against my torpid Senses. I curse at the Sun in a loud whisper, “Damn you, asshole! I should sit my night-black behind on your star-face like a fucking candlesnuffer and ass-swallow your fire to the last fucking sparkle!” The thought of it all suddenly enflames hilarity in my blank stomach, as I envision a gleam of Sun flashing across my posterior. “Dawn, straight outta my butt crack”, I laugh to myself.

THE ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACKS…  

A PORTRAIT OF THE YOUNG MAN AS A ZOMBIE |  THE CASSAVA MONOLOGUEWELCOME TO EARTH: POPULATION 1 |  PRIMA FACIE |