( via / via via celia covington in dallas filth )

Made with Code.

"We are the squanderers of pain and sorrow,
Espying them, in the tragic lapse of time,
Before they come, in case their end be near.
For they are our winter's leaves, a dark green shade
Which colours all our sences,--they are one
Of the seasons of the secretive year--, and more:
They are place and dwelling, camp and ground and home."

--Sackvilles' Duino, X.

"Being hypocritical is my comfort zone..."

"glish"

1.
   Fillmore dire
sluice almond amp
   rolm craw bell

educe wiry frieze
   peal askew

2.
scrivenerly fathoms
futility baked in
carbonized aperçu

no name for ease of breath
the slosh that increases
hour at the Fillmore

wall of flame gathering

3.
crawl along Mechanic Street
underfong Mechanic Street

stay fair-aware after the
shot gone wrong, Mechanic Street

i camped on the dry bed of
billabong, Mechanic Street

golden sunrise ferrying
thousands strong Mechanic Street

Graywyvern fadges driving
parlous song, Mechanic Street

4.
orange iron · i avert
the bruised palm · of a perfect brine
forklift font · furious angelance
in the dead deep · where the diphthongs plummet

Hippychick.