Marc Lee

» Posted on: May 8th, 2012 by admin



Marc Lee sprang up amongst the ancient woodland of the Greenwood, rising off the westerly coast of the Annwn peninsula; stirred from the oceanbed by volcanic eruptions sometime this past iceage. Here Marc learned of sea-cabbage and nettle stems, and of roads left when the asteroid fell. Becoming orphaned thereon, Marc struck out upon these roads into the wider world with desire to placate the Muse as best he may, and to be of greater service. Marc is a dreamer of heavy dreams, draped in black adornment; a wide-eyed lover to the virid-skinned, bird-throated mother of flowers and marshes. He has walked through the waist-high grass in the open meadow at the end of the road of the esoteric tradition, and stands now just beyond the boundaries of post-industrial bardistry, a medicine pouch strung about him and a rosewood phurba to his clasp, piping a melody of vines and shoots and leaves over the rivers of this island and their sleeping cities.

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