by Brittany Ham


“Visions are not dreams, they are different sequences, different wavelenghts, imprinted on the mind and not created from it. They take their forms from the great mysteries and are witnessed in many different ways and because of this, they’re better understood in terms of what they are not instead of what they are. They’re endlessly complex and exist outside of time in a way that no finite being can ever fully understand. In the wavering light, I saw the temple as the first covenant with the universe since He created formlessness so that form could arise, and I saw flashing before me the first of a hundred and forty-four thousand temples that will bind the cosmos together in holiness. I saw the end so that I could see the beginning.”

Chapbook edition of 50, hand numbered
80 pages, saddle stitched, 8.5″ x 5.5″

A Translation from the Middle English
by James Bradley


“…Look in no wise that thou be within thyself. And shortly without thyself will I not that thou be, nor yet above, no behind, nor on one side, nor on the other.

‘Where then,’ sayest thou, ‘shall I be? Nowhere, by thy tale!’ Now truly thou sayest well; for there would I have thee. For nowhere bodily is everywhere ghostly. Look then busily that thy ghostly work be nowhere bodily; and then wheresover that this thing is, on which thou willfully workest in thy mind in substance, O surely there art thou in spirit, as verily as thy body is in that place that thou art bodily. And although thy bodily faculties can find there nothing to feed themselves on, for they think it nothing that thou dost, ye! carry on then with this nothingness, provided that thou do it for God’s love…”

Read an extended excerpt at Columbia Journal.

Chapbook edition of 50, hand numbered
88 pages, saddle stitched, 8.5″ x 5.5″

by Brittany Ham


‘I cast a broken shell into the sea’

I cast a broken shell into the sea
where sank this brooding Spectre’s amulet.
The sea forsook its care, its vision lost
below the ocean’s depths where Truth there lies.
I threw a ruptured spiral to decay
beside this pris’ner bound to meaning’s loss.
She weeps below the Spectre’s dreary eye
as shadows animate her death in life.
A journ’ing tempest meets the maelstrom’s eye
and pours its mercy on her vision’s threat.
The sky and sea embrace inside the wind
and fated night restores her purest forms.
The tide returns within her lucid breast
and she absolves her vision’s awe-full plight.

Chapbook edition of 100, hand numbered
60 pages, saddle stitched, 5.5″ x 4.25″

????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????MIRRORS OF AZAZEL:
A Post-Diluvian Journal
by James Bradley


“This notebook is a thinly-veiled plea for mercy issuing forth from the old antediluvian human race who ate, drank, married and gave in marriage right up to the end (marked by a watery mass grave). An ominous drizzle spoiled the picnics dotting the parade route’s path, dousing the torch for the first time in ages untold. Once, they counted Olympiads in negative numbers, then the Olympians fell from Heaven and attempted to rebuild their battered lives on a mountaintop—the highest point broken wings would accommodate. These days they count forward from the nearly-forgotten flood, to the fire. These days they work tirelessly to devise a hotter flame.”

Chapbook edition of 100, hand numbered
56 pages, saddle stitched, 8.5″ x 5.5″