they may never stir
from their hell
in the far end of heaven
they descend from
the terrible august crown
of God
from a pen of flaming fire
like cellars holding
reserves of smoke
they make a nest in your memory
in the periphery of your antipathy
some have human heads
& bodies made of maggots
but their souls are made of flame
one which devours & absorbs
one which merely devours
another which merely absorbs
& another (myself)
which devours fire
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Popular Posts
-
Fork Tongued in loops of wire he nods&nods&nods which was a pity since he should have shook with rage at ...
-
the syndrome of a pendulum fashioned by a bad reputation. praying like an angel to a bomb urinated from a strangled star. love is pain. and ...
-
xxxxxxxxhis enraptured final hush and multiply itxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxand ruin the fruit of his mother's laborxxxxxxxxxxx ...
-
I realized, reflecting back on my musings that I use the term "At any rate" an awful lot, often awkwardly and without reason. In...
-
What do you get when you cross a cross, with a spiral, with a 3d starfield? A gyre! (If my thoughts on the subject are to be believed) DOWNL...
No comments:
Post a Comment