"Bullycide"

1.
my eyelids are smurf napalm
a death march into glorious solvency
my eyelids are the wind
taken to its logical conclusion

i suck the blood of Stephanie Meyer

2.
fallen is "urban camo"
scavengers
in our own landscape
veil Narcissus
a crow
against hot cement
something like a jukebox
and something like an electric chair



More on "the art of the funerary violin".


Resonances in conlangs.

As for these blog entries, of course i am tying paper flowers in the tail of my kite, and one day the kite will escape. That's the point.


" 'They--we--were betrayed. In our souls we have never been sure by whom. When we feel cheated we are ready to kill; and maybe we feel cheated all the time.' " --Gene Wolfe, "Seven American Nights," in: Best Science Fiction Stories (1980)