yes I don’t want to get out of the way, from falling upward while gliding sideways, away from tentacular embraces, seething sidewalk skids, awaken from way back when, yes, like a child again but not.
evidence all around of Niagra Falls, Memphis, New Orleans, all the while ratcheting high up in the air, tops of trees, aunts and uncles circling, new motif of ruin and wrack ancient waterways pose underneath Mozelle and Bennie all the others making a supernatural circuit like a child again but not
We take the old pink 57 chevy out to indian mounds get invaded by bugs from hell while our brethren push from below forming helmets of colliding clouds Meanwhile the others scurry around in the dark edges of the campfire, delux furnishings cob web cabin yes bugs light up tippy tree tops; they make the entire circuit from below to above for your fandom, your incomprehension, your guilt amen hosannahs forever and again emerging from the salt flats for your wounds little gilt picture frames to sit on the piano: law of the family.