grim thresh hold, the poem
or if
i'm in bed
suddenly realizing the path
to catatonia
the elemental highwayman smoothing back my feathers
yule be a good statue, danny
holding up a flintlock to me head
or ferns cut from red leather
my last identity
a large terra-cot ta-mask
hung from a white marble
wine stained
wall
curled up inside
"the catalonian"
"the cantaloupian"
if flesh was fungus
we sleep in catatonia
space of a tri-corn
a tri-crone
passing a big blue marble
of an eye
Vijnanabhiksu may pass a different threshing
hold
hold in there! skinny humanoid donkey carvers
move through white alabastar and black onyx
through faces checkered with niches with sleepers
nacred and nitred
aluminun skull launcher
i could stand on tope oof thatr
osiuajh
^
+
>
7
kata toney o stropheya
(((((((((((((((((((((((((*)))))))))))))))))))))))))))
