Snake in Grass/Folds

Apologize

Over relish here for peepee kaka humor.

Penile humor helps me laugh at myself – over sublime “weight” of terror, my horror-does-not-forsake-beauty books.

Pee boy. P for precious plowing holy poley through sanctums crash cupid, wild and lonely for its depths – 

Apologize, must apologize! language sticks me up, flutters & gutters through, in purlieus of fascination, and amidst all that, is the Ferlie fraught be disenflowered by grout of religious embellishment.

Confess

Mythomatic violence – to fall under, a shocking brittle unleashing of grave enchantments —

Took me over, monster & roperipe & spinning spinning – startling kerfuffles with Kafkaesque shuffles awakened from depths of a lurking dormant architecture —

Captured and captivated by sudden unleashing wreak of self sabotage, I was now living, with a snake in my grass.

Swamp insidious perversely religiously sublime, wild thwarts of madness.

That left me: Astonished enraptured terrorized mortified mystified transfigured and seduced.

Medicine!

Thank. MUST THANK (beyond measure) those who put up with me during The Crazy Years. Blasted by a fury of Fears.

Without their medicine, have to wonder if ever could have would have found a way back over borderlines — with hair of angels.

The Rent

Beckett for me, is like The Rent, I hear anglified French murmuring in background like shoots and ladders —

Appears before me as a trickster with sooty eyes illuminating the rent, digging the stocks out from “source” labors of hell.

Tak tak tak – many thanks.

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