"We are the damned--the strain and moil
That Death has washed from earthly time;
Drawn down by tides of Hell, we boil
Like toads within a torrid slime."
—Clark Ashton Smith
"ODE: Piso Olpe"
from myself secret
hawk's hood dipped
don't get your hunch in a bunch
clouds fade to land
no choice
narp2 widening wopwops
inward drawn
emptiness
with its fishhook
clouds fade to land · legend-laden edge
icy chair & bruisechase
achieved sessile blessing
colors shift
off in the West
from myself secret · clues in the firmament
foamcore legend fadged with
furious green ideas
Tween Island
hovers over
other silences · other breakings
cast my eyes past isthmus
aren't you mourning floor-shine
windshield specks
& the warped door
empire s brittle · as the brine crust
words that seem to settle
at some finny pinnacle
not this blur
or blaring chill
lost among leads · that end in lessons
the whole log handed me
by happenstance rancid
years to read
like fingerprints
betrayals burn · not theirs mine
less & less eclipses
clatter in the hat fact'ry
those wall shapes
with ochre traced
those beasts hunted · with harsh love
our hands turned tangle
to take what chase lost us
now pixels
portend keeping
carcasses in bits · sieved in the dark sky
"Building a time machine just to go back and destroy Less Wrong."
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