Marc WhiteCornered in the passing lane to Nirvana’s reflection pointFor all the breaths taken before the apple in this story was stuffed in a pie to pacify. Cinnamon!Sep 28, 2016Sep 28, 2016
Marc WhiteDiveToday, I died. On the way down, I sensed a terminal demise. There was a proceeding light upon meeting the end. I kept going, knowing it was…Sep 28, 2016Sep 28, 2016
Marc WhiteAerial Surveillance & The One I Remember FondlyAncient koans, understanding them in relation to new mind, and grading scales, high marks, demonstrate how to exist and not to exist…Sep 24, 2016Sep 24, 2016
Marc WhiteHeadhunting with De BergeracThe gates are always open: given. Congruent with fleeing gargoyles, armed with time-bombs, cases of cheap liquor, smut, an ungodly…Sep 7, 2016Sep 7, 2016
Marc Whitea strange dittyan aged grape sweet and illuminating treading in sway one way or another way an old sailor’s rhyme to find me true when the world turns…Sep 7, 2016Sep 7, 2016
Marc WhiteExodusThe anxiuosness of love migrating from a bundle of affliction. Some nights it only takes a song, Country breakfast and constant…Sep 7, 2016Sep 7, 2016
Marc WhiteWhat are you gonna do with me?What are you gonna do with me Now that I’m such an eye sore?Aug 16, 2016Aug 16, 2016
Marc WhitePoem — Il Pareti (The Walls of Lucca)by Marcus Uganda White on Sunday, April 18, 2010 at 10:26amFeb 14, 2016Feb 14, 2016
Marc Whitethe towering heightsthe rush of new momentum, an intervening of forces undeterred by speech. the borders are crossed and the fearful migrate, and surrender to…Jan 17, 2016Jan 17, 2016