Chess Prose

Chess takes me heart first into the matrix which is the mother womb literal a lateral discection in my reflection as I gaze into the perfection a game in its brilliant diamond duality the zen-ness witness the fortress of man possessed as ifwoman possessed the clean queen dream in the scheming mist history We bliss in this I must insist that for every iz there is the oz to get the brave-smart-heart and find your way home.