Tag: writing
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7 7 7
I’m in a grid of spheres, it’s odd, 777 added totals the tiersThe lightning fork the branches veer toward Yesod from Hod; Mortal to GodTower in the fog: laid out on cold stone the tat of old croneSplayed out her bold bones the twats I’ve old known and outgrown like kid’s bones.Charms spun on bone…
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Boo
He is unbound now and dates and days bereft of meaning mound like dust, their puzzling associations lost like the siren’s songs. Arbitrary totems marking the ceaseless march of illusory matter hold little luster.
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Babylaunchpad Failure
Miracles which mandate murder. At a sniff of evolutionary advantage, inert iterations which crave life and its luster will preside over anarchic epochs.
Alchemisland 