Cleo knows they dream of places their DNA remembers from prior generations. Imprints left behind in mitochondrial codes and enzymiatic envelopes for protein architectures that generate subconscious metaphors they are continuously learning to decipher.

Everything went dark. I don’t know for how long, but when my eyes opened I was on my back in the street surrounded by a mob of masked people dressed head-to-toe in black.

Where do the children who never saw the light go? Maybe they live in that parallel world. Maybe they are allright there and don't want us to steal their friends, our amnesias.

¿A dónde van lxs niñxs que nunca vieron la luz? Quizás vivan con nuestros olvidos. Alomejor están bien ahí y no quieren que les robemos a sus amigos, los olvidos.

The gang gets stranded in the outer reaches of the Burning Man galaxy, spending their time busking for bolts, mining asteroid belts for axle grease, and hitching rides with highway sailboats to visit wrecking yards and watch BRC burn from a distance.

A tale from Midwest to Pacific Northwest

How the editorial system works in Italy?

I left the extremely personal and magical way of writing behind at some point, but I remember it.

A selection from an upcoming novel, "Roadkill Bender". This section finds Shitbird and Piere grappling with their collective death wish.

Hoy quiero contar cómo la vida me ofreció una de sus repeticiones. Esta vez en forma de amistad y en la West Coast de los Estados Unidos, Oregon. Y cómo de allí brotó una flor de Dama de la Noche, que aunque la flor no se vea, su aroma hace del camino nocturno, un paseo más dulce.

Today I want to tell how life offered me one of its repetitions. This time in the form of friendship and on the West Coast of the United States, Oregon. And how from there sprouted a Queen of the Night flower, that although the flower is not seen, its aroma makes the night walk, a sweeter walk.

Chapter 1: The Bergemeister's hand dripped blood onto the wooden chest…

Alive with the Glory of Mycelium

I was about to embark on a mission, one that would take me to unfamiliar and potentially dangerous territories. I needed to go find Ed Abbey.

Primitive Skills Gatherings: Luddite Cult or Regenerative Revolutionaries?

Words dancing beyond reason, with no fear of nonsense, a sensuous speech that yet flows beyond the senses, flowering in the fertile soils of imagination. This is the speech, the expression, I desire, an outflow, a flooding filled with magic, with poetry, with beauty, with violence, with humor, a godless glossolalia filled with meanings that cannot be reduced to dogmas or reasons.

Tracing Entheogenic Traditions and Ethnobotanical Wisdom.

An extract from a novel about rave culture

This is a poem that floated through the shifting winds of recent eras. Written first in the mind, then on leaves of paper in 1978, and finally printed in book-form in 1987. It only drifted over the border, in its English form, in 2020.

Our tale picks up at the Soothsayer’s caves…Midnight tinted waters adorned by groups of illuminated jellyfish rippling to the rhythms of the dense kelp forest.