Pretty sponges.
Yemen came my way
though i had set it aside
came to me half price
black tide in broad daylight borne
along like a gutter leafling
the charred stumps of trees
as we listen to 80s
wage the I-novel
i touch the charred stumps of trees
smudge my pristine fingertips
with a sigh return
to the land of things required
by what came before
one-storey quondam shelter
yet some more high than others
rainbow reflected
on dark wood · less than a week
all the news stories
wanted to take these red bricks
make them stand for something new
new dispensation
or the fantasy of one
only the old heartache
red brick walkway that has seen
stumblings to the slaughterhouse
Secret meeting of the happy eligible few.
"There are people who have naturally an affected manner. In them simplicity would be pure affectation, a sort of inverted mannerism. Long practice is necessary to be naturally simple. The circumvolutions of the brain[Pg 18] twist themselves in such a manner that the ideas get entangled and confused and go up in spirals instead of following straight lines. The most complicated, subtle, and intense thoughts are those which present themselves first. They see things from a peculiar angle which alters the aspect and perspective. All fancies, the most odd, unusual, and fantastically distant from the subject treated of, strike them chiefly, and they know how to draw them into their woof by mysterious threads." --Life of Baudelaire
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