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Saturday, February 4, 2012


i pray thee probability. holy things in Jacob shells. linguis Efnard Logick.

the prince of better times. prays to the human will. during this time of blessedness. may the fragments of crucified meat show you for certain the great price. we are one recantation away from Oblivion. his Majesty's apples are in our stool. snake marks identify us from each other. we are the dead. and this is our poetry. the body of this discourse are the hands of the clock at the neck of a river passing through the eye of a needle.

universal Tychonius talked to the ciphered pieces of a dismembered deity. reading the future from the shapes of burn marks in his arm. pain was transcendence. until he lost his body. to the crucified Sixtus. while his god was sleeping. tribes of ours godfather's land dared the snake to mark his tongue with the brand of a chore boy.

mAw cock openeth
the person possessed
mannequin man manqanein
the manic kin of Efnard
taught them how
to become possessed

To speak of all eyes
is to say nothing at all
wormwood commodiously seduced GOD
whose alternations flap jack the epitomist
that the Life Prophet uses to make an example
of himself.

the Life Prophet is now profit. the remainder fountains itself. what divinity has this sense of tragedy?


No, I do not know where Efnard came from. I looked it up and I still don't know.

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