Old fears like dead gods lived cruelly underground twisting this way that way startling Pimona.

High landers gushing flow and crow. Wanderers ponderers quandery-ers. Finders leapers reepers jeepers creepers.

Dead end deepers…

Hello, who is this! Wonders Pimona. What dead ringer now?

Light. Follow the light…

Bat in one in hand , and the other full of head. Devious are the litter of her circling pride.

How exist without following down, to where clings the avidity, hunger comes accosting? Just to see where it flows…

Contrary is a fairy, and fairies are emissary. Fishing for clues…

Sweetness hid, in protected spaces. Where festered in fevers, and shadows of horror, its greed, naked as an angel. Horror can run deep, “singular truths” crashing, as a horror that rips right through.  

Difficult to tame. Find joy in it? What stays there what brings her there. Whimsicality is important for terror produces terrorists.

To brow beat the beast right out. What hates violently, what provides arrogance, what smells stir with goats, and birds, in trees. Stores it off. Protects the injury.

Cuts through onions to tears. Coughs up darlings. Reveals elegance of it. And loves, even knowing its a consequence of horror.

Booty of the moody where argue with the refreshments. Hike along the back of mountain chains.

Praise the barter. Feathers plucked off the tar, one by one. From ruby slippers to ferriers shoe for horse to planet zog.