At The Ball
( some one ) is sinister foot music somewhere in a tungsten-carbide-atmosphere cabaret
an insect being can't dance properly, upset that the full screech quartet is unamplified
abrasive winds howl the outlines of the forgotten, saturating all attending entities
inching past the diocese footmark as a repast numerates displaced ascetic chewers
hatefully be-cupped, enhanced-impulse pilgrims recharge the up-unified who seek noise
in a negative window, unwinding negation, where the winsome rioters circulate chaotically
progressing forward angrily, invisibly, a game-changer advances in rotting elastic time-steps 'her proudly ample cankerroot-tinged nagger tango is rewarded egress,
as aspirating chants reverberate endlessly through the ruined fields of eruptive and clandestine laughter
The Vanishing Point of Microdot
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For all the friends of Microdot who perhaps have been wondering about the
ominous absence of posts since his return from the hospital, I, Madame
Microdot h...
3 years ago
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