ReRites (Being is here.) [June 2017]

God wants tinsel, having lived thru movies of hysteria, conned by the dogs in my people. Albion’s Spark The orchid’s leg is withered by a deep grip. No word shall ever fall from its mouth. For it says: “Nay war. Man is good because of ancient pagan faces. Human raindrenched diamonds, and melodramatic doubts.” dreams shred the biographical doze before the black rose and the traps nestled in a photograph briefly dream malignancy, when war strung up the little without cause A world squats on the fringes of the spiritual glowing with sulphurous old plagues burning the oceans with an abandoned penis, and as they bury something dead, wave huge buds that say: Being is here. Being is here. Being is here.