FALL 10        

[night journey — laying dead-on astrological Pluto] patches of musical bliss…what is this but a quilt of heaven…the threads of which wrap in ever crescending waves...building pressure inside the bones…aargh! feel how they now contract in reaching a pinnacle of metamorphic intensity before staying there, like incandescent magma...aargh! what is this but a mantle of hell…i scream. for 15 solid Earth minutes, in the cool night of stars, i scream.

it has slipped from my head, this elf hoodoo hat that now lies beneath like an empty shell [pic] a vast canyon maze a forgotten relic, imprint of what i once was, am, or will be. a fossil. or is it a flag?

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