pagan breasts, terrestrial silver into yet another pataphysical critique of urinating turntables, a new best fuck you: what hovers around the druggy machine, coalesce hydra: ol' blue eyes is really auditioning to be an animal removed from the realms of pure abstraction, yet loved for its box of mornings: its warbling outside the aesthetic man become an ordinary shelf, just another quotidian restraint: this symphony lacks the courage to chew on piles of pink asylum, the new Germanic as anything-can-happen-time: eternal popping and slapping before ancient lunar rites fusing with my augured bones in the sun: magic is trapped right here, right now, my cheek is a wet Adam and Eve, violets I can see clearly from the cloud's lycanthropy, a thousand eyes glaring up at me from the concrete
- Famous Places to bury dead niggers.
- Medusa II
- seth has a good day
- It's so quiet...
- Cover & Back Cover for Babalith new CD
- a few minutes in the Theatre Toil
- kawamata 1
- whelps the icy slope climbing it is an all ravishi...
- Spells of hatred and atrophied thought
- Devil Song
- Ross (I'm) well
- found objects 3612
- machine tumble fly
- don't panic
- kitab al-a'rad: the swarm angels
- input variable
- For C.J. and Doriandra
- the flagellants corpse
- ▼ September (42)