Black and white and red all over
Not a knave left taming kestrels
Death which is breathless, balding
Recalling vilest cancers, sore incurable
Angst and lancinating pain unendurable
Real as Durer’s grass, realer than real
Fixity’s cessation, bubbling floors rubbled nations
A heat risen which steel melts to mithril puddle
A wobbly, hot mushroom apocalypse
Sidling like a drunkard through the thoroughfare
Flame held to a painting of an idyll
Heaven to hell translated
Transmigration of saved souls to higher states
Word someone said in Ulysses, ask James.
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