The elephant of frost on the windows, honey looking out at the ice. Sitting down by the window, heart flooded with fire, honey looking out at the vastness of slush.
Anna Livia Plurabelle. Gustav Klimt. Here comes everybody, waiting for midnight at the Hollywood Bowl. Cheerio, holidaymaker
Reap a summer down with yellow vividness fizzing beyond good and evil. Beyond good and evil, I’m fixed. Fists clenched, loudly crunching my grunts and freely sawing my sighs.
Take a long cold look and tell me, tell me when it all goes wrong. And I’ll say “no, no, no, no. This won’t be”
The history of octopus and terrapins before the noon’s El Dorado, lessons in lemonade and noses, heading a daytime that’s luminous.
A coolly cruel and singly supreme generation of greedy imperialists sets around me, but I’m not scared. Because here am I, shying from absinthe on a terrace and…
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