I write my astrology forecasts for the magically operative and creatively active, so benefic influences can be harvested and also turbulent energies can be processed and put to good use, rather than being ducked, dodged or taken with a wincing restraint. 

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February 1, 2020

         

        The hand which quivers above the quiver, not from fear, but from something in the air, more like a liquid medium the body walks through to proceed in steady motion on the trail of its moving target which is both everywhere and somewhere hidden away in a far off sector of the unsurveyed area.  Our pursuits, both romantic and rashly real take us off map into uncharted territory where insights incinerate the paper wrapped powder charges we brought along at night when we wait in anticipation of a signal out of the sky to strike a match at last and summon the burning image in our eye.  We step forward with our plans, following a hunch into the blank blotches spreading across the map.  The...

January 1, 2020

         

          The needles jump and twitch as the paper streams through like a ribbon of dry milk electrified by a frozen bolt of graphite static coursing cross parallel lines, the thin solid strips of time that host the erratic rise and fall of everything contained between eon ends.  Outside the mile thick solid stone walls are lead wires that tap through the bare crust and pierce down into the bedrock, boring nearly to the mantle, where sensitive nodules operate on the seismic vibrations like the sound sensitive mandible ends of serpents jawbone hinges, the early evolutionary ear.  The data fills an array which in many millions of stone slab steps is represented upon the expanse of an empty des...

April 1, 2019

        The tunnels of the Temple Of Confusion flush with emotional fluid, swell with romantic waters, cascade in intuitive significance, like a great skull floating through an eternal sea, the liquid filtering through its salt softened sinus passages whispering a narrative into a dreamers ear, dreaming they are awake, going about their business as usual but much further and wider and vaster and deeper than normal, the periphery of their perception scrolls back to reveal more of the world until they are enveloped in ebb and flow of a meaning and feeling drenched world.  Thoughts are like krill, tiny crustaceans and free floating bits of aquatic flora picked by the surging waters and carried off into the ambient motion....

March 1, 2019

          In the interim between dark Moons the fiery red hot rod melted into a paddle wheel river boat, sending fans slowly through the muddy slurry, and the sky high hot air balloon shrunk into an Ox landing four hooves into the muck with a muffled thud.  In the ditch where we found ourselves bailing brown water from the puddle into the channel pale by pale we could still remember yesterdays fission, the sparks and nuclear chain reactions that spat out newspaper clippings and incinerated them into scintillating ideas that would flash against the fast moving clouds like puppets of fire performing out our fantasies for us to enjoy and be inspired by; we could hear the roar of excitement as we rose our spirits to the ape...

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Contact

CHRIS REPPUCCI

212 Barker Rd. 

Troy, ME

04987

(207)-930-5404

GLASSFACE@hotmail.com

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