by sh0n grub, roving reporter for the Oscillating Oculus
In the coruscating madness of the frog reaper's nest
Where a painter and artist meet in headflung distress
From the turbulence of shadows, may an avatar commence
In a blood initiation ritual with significant success.
How the mere imposition of a woven mandala's song
May interpolate an inner world of interconnectivity,
While evoking a scene mirrored in a labyrinth of dreams
To cultivate a solution that may come across wrong.
Welcome to DUMZINE. It's been awhile since I posted anything.
There's been a lot going on at GRUB CENTRAL which is now
more or less known as TRIVERSE LABORATORIES and consists
of no longer the mighty Greg Grub + Shaun Grub = THE GRUB BROS
but rather, has morphed into Shaun Grub + Zane Grub = ZUNA ASHEN.
We are working almost daily on cultivating, which is to say writing out
the long, intricate details outlining the bedrock of a new shared universe
that becomes superimposed on the history of reality and simultaneously
functions as the setting of our pulp science fantasy serials to be published
some day in the near future by our own imprint 𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖒𝖆 𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘
destined to become the flourishing nexus of fantastical writings
to usher in our latest era of post boomer generational aspiration
in the arts and literary scene which includes poetry, drama and action
sex, blood and graphics on a scale that would make our colleagues blush
Nevermind the gold rush get in on the action while you can grab a slice
of the pie while the music's winding down and a seat at the table
before the next high tide sweeps in to drown the uncertain and paralyzed.
(Paradigm shifts like the one we're all going through at the moment
Signal more wild adventures ever yet to come and at the least
An ever ending home base moving in by which to forget about the past.)
I'm making slow progress on my "Big Book of Twisted Fairy Tales", otherwise to be titled something more like The Monster on the Shield & Other Atrocities, but I'm still compiling tales, so there could be another title for it yet.
While developing the Blog of the Triverse, maintained since its outset largely with
entries by Zuna Ashen, have just reached one hundred posts!
(My son and I are also expanding the various sublevels of our mythos in time known as the Triverse (an analog of our universe) used to illustrate the somewhat magical nature of existence.)
Now as we're caught in the crossfire of this manifolding lotus region
Of the perpetual crucifixion of energy and matter on the crossbar
representative of the timespace continuum we are eased through
the molecular microtonal aether drift that eases our imprinted characteristics
onto the pages of life being turned at such a slow pace we often come to think:
No one's reading this Odyssey when in fact the legion of the as-yet-unformed
Have it preordered long before the first zygote and are already subscribed to it
For their lives-to-come, and before long, headflung from the heels of our giant shoulders.
While the greatest living trees subsume into monolithic buttes at such a pace
We are unable to make the connection (as their long dropped fruit) whose seedling eyes Open one after another in an unzipped revelation
of reflecting the stars
A haunting eulogy to fall like the dust of silenced music echoed in the void
The so-called Monster on the Shield (Leo's painting commissioned by his father) became as true as any depiction of our reflection. For reasons cultivated far too long within the strain of culture as it gains fruition. Upon the tail end of creation's ultimate spawning, a circumscription if you will.
Of all that came before, reiterated through a new compound lens and horn.
Where the herald of light may continue to flare out into the symphonic composition. Unraveling through disintegration into new and subsequent movements.
If you're feeling confused, let's make no mistake about it. Our legion of readers are mostly the unborn. The yet to be borne. Into this world I've come to understand as the Prime dominion Earth. Which is to say it's latest incarnation. The only one in Time.
The curse of not achieving readership success until after we're dead. That's just the way of all life, not merely limited to the plight of gifted artist's and poets.
It's how creation itself manifests across time, necessarily in long, drawn out movements that gradually form across the interconnection of molecular masses making progress through aeons like glacial mountains too colossal for us to behold. There, I've said too much.
If you've read this far and are still alive, thanks for subscribing to DUMZINE.
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WORD Begun in June fourteen years ago & Continued in November, 2015, DUMZINE
presents an exclusive 13-part serialization of the epic poem
by Sh0n Grub
~now back to yr regulrly scheduled 2025~
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