"The Meissen's ware has expired, its passage is written in oppidan stone. Maillol may neither force the standard clay. The corporeality of the earth is imperiled, its sedimentary cup filed with incommodious libation, with the Segercone of industries tear, basalts with biscuit leaves constitutes lead procaine. The Geyser's Panicum languishes in the chlorine silt, its delicate stem immersed in a poison communion with the challis of aphoristic ground. To the precursors mouth assume the primordial faience, the historical requiem of fragrant arboretums."
--Kristin Ryling
bruised by the real, here
in air conditioned comfort
café au lait time
one-oh-nine in Rome fades, like
smoke alarm i figured out
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