the havoc-seeking primordial turns, burning blue and bright, pulling down earth and whetting the rivers // fear turning rocks

sacred sight

how they resemble the space of time before.  fractured divisions. statistically sane. baskets of heaven. inevitably more. but coming to terms with its morose bane

of existence.


how lingering air burns the layers to crumbling ashes, fluttering of smoke and desire // flocks of what was, hankering down. bending fire

to sleep tight.




and i said today, “the only thing i take serious now are jokes.”


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