A job to do
shadowy figures moving in fog
routine check
go take a look
mango soul shine
migratory headband
cloudy canvas
plankton caviar
Beyond it there is only river
embalming she comes in come
flowing from the shore with bones
poisonous soul traders
pushing souls
thorny channels lit by tomorrow
taught squatting on aquatic turf
altar shit sewage green flowing love
hot box sentinel prostration on the hungry reef
200 miles from the Ohio river
in the form of horn leather
sound method cool woofer
bill collector orgies cover the landscape
Sirens wail at dawn in the cloudy filter
baking in that warm river smell
butane chakra glass boss
Dry grass and fainting rats
draining fonts
What are you going to do? No fractions in space.
Love.
Or hate.