sloppy magic on the
I think it was more then awards
portions of skin were universes of their own
windows to the bones
I think we're clones.
old spirtuals sung on the farm
mother masking moments of terror
to make the heart warm.
eyes flutter along
death of the
CARVEd into a deer sKulL
funeral processions by mourning
PAY PER MACHE MOBILE HOMES
is now live on I.Vs
doing his best to reach a spirtual beach
"this peyote will bring back my speech"
this is his belief ///
his tone is weak
the cosmic infant begins to peak.