food for crows

gasping, gaping. Metastasis. It glows in the corner as a fire fly’s mouth. Deep molasses of a moonless Southern night. It has a need of its own. There is a name on the door but no one knows who it belongs to anymore. That seed was scattered and crop failed. Erasure, in gilded gloaming. The craft of wetwork still decorates some of old pine floor. l’satan lo. Obstruction, judgement. The weather vane is rusted in a westerly position. Adverse to meaning, this pain is still subjective. There was never a time in this place where the low dogs didn’t whine. … Continue reading food for crows

inconsequential fallacies and the hands of tiny gods

one two stop incision, incision (crevice) callous differential calculus teratology precept within corn syrup extant, independent of atomic clock (your gravity disrupts its accuracy) render madness in spoonfuls mutilated precision, gnashing of teeth mutant perfection or free formed dodecahedron mindful now of chattering cinnamon hands below the waist and rope burns in a (T)rapist van waste away little hopes forensic apathy a stretch to maven viral proxy cast klaxon call over maple fields in all ways the same, always the same wave-particle duality forces action different paths under observation there are no solutions,  querilous complexity hook in mouth like spring … Continue reading inconsequential fallacies and the hands of tiny gods

OP’s TSotD-Soundgarden does Black Sabbath

Anything we should know about your change? How can you buy or sell the sky Or the warmth of the land it’s strange to us We don’t own the freshness of the air Or the sparkle of the water How can you buy them from us The white man doesn’t understand our ways For he’s a stranger who comes in the night And takes from the land just what he needs Oh yeah He treats his brothers like his enemies When it’s completed he moves on He leaves his father’s grave and his birthright His birthright is forgotten The air … Continue reading OP’s TSotD-Soundgarden does Black Sabbath