A memoir from Psychedelic Nights.

A poem by Morgan Hill.

www.soundcloud.com/morganhill.

A poem by Morgan Hill.

www.soundcloud.com/morganhill.

Another Story!
Part Deux: The Recapturing of The Sausage Pot

Cuffbert: Maybe A Friend, Maybe A Foe, Or Merely a Talking Moose on the Go!

The Third & Final Installment??!?!

Dicscovering Cuffbert was a spy.

An unearthly bang in the beginning, cave paintings somewhere around the middle; or was it one in the eye for Harold in a battle concluded somewhere around lunch time and that leads us here to the present day that all seems so queer in light of this yet seems so normal and stable to us. Maybe I should begin this story in the middle (as I see no other relevant place to start). Yes, in the middle as it were.

I had previously been transported through a looking glass into a parallel universe where everything is backwards; or indeed everything is forwards to these poor fat little orange inhabitants who walk with their legs on their heads and wear their hats up-side down; or maybe right side up as the case may prevail.

A story of my trip with the strongest psychedelic drug; DMT.

Refer back to part 1.

The following is inspired by reported events.

Final instalment in my mini-series of my short poems inspired by “so bad it”s good’ 1970s album covers.

I’m not really sure. It may just be an anomaly. But, I think they’re a couple of ghosts peering at me and my lens. Paranormal activity? Ghosts? The Big House on the Daheim Estate in Millbrook, NY.