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Incubus.

“Before Mug Unison” (response to "Of Being Numerous")

Pale cerulean rinse
Of road dappled shipwreck
Head full of harsh signs
Here where the cease-whisper
Guides drones of down-drawn
Deep hollowness swirling

Jagged concrete jess
Justice a pale hostage
I drive among mirth
Of moving savages
Not at this nexus
Nod skulls or pain winecups

With my wastrel gloves
Work out of thick darkness
Fishing boat rebuked
Abandon hope mindfog
Overpass echoes
Each perfect escapement

And the glass tors trail
Tiny ribbon-goblins
In my eyes inchmeal
Oligarch-love anklets
Pale cerulean prole
Preaching anxious felch

Come let us unleash
The law of skinned thunder
As terrible touch
Takes place amongst ices
Leaves ash heaps hallowed
By the hent burned contours

Achieving the five-year plan in four years.

"there's a whale in my mind. i
feed him arrogant prophets."

—Ishmael Reed

C U S T A R D.