He’s a big barreled suave broad caster (he casts broads) who smokes a cigar, the phallus broadcasted on his exclusive speaker. His voice is pinched with a husky drawl, ever sure, and he declares whatever he wants and you appease. The Brute: Step right …
“We are lost and strangers to this place, this mother of terrors and wonders.”
There was a time once when poets Sitting on cracked marble urns Invoked the muses; Or when the angel whispered Into Matthew’s ear The tale of a man Who came to earth as a god….
“On rooftops and deserted roadways, she would, in times of chemical storms, spread her legs across the sky to take in the pieces….”
Surrender the Life • Terra • Second Skin
Fuselage • Perplexing order • Hesitation • Jurisdiction lies in zoology • Caliber
We believe culture is consciousness, and consciousness is world, and so to participate as a media platform, we see ourselves as agents of enactive culture-making. Social poetics.
The universe is crawling with unseen life: angels and djinn and spiritual guides. Like the excess in a stagnant pond, this abscess of the Absolute is obscenely corpulent in every nook and cranny, armpit and crotch of the Great Mother of dark energy and …