MUSIC:
cello made of sponge
and rosewood
releasing a flow that is a unison
of hold-able
liquid
Of musicke
POETRY:
a short, tight strum,
as-is,
worth the reed,
the sap blood of living things has found
and will ink a new font
in what's left of the human hour.
FILM: Film's the mad black Easter egg
for a great many people.
Under Phoenix brood, inhaling the smokes
of flesh &n' blood.
Freudian, drowning in the human average,
id hearing the threat of being lock't-in.
All set to a one-song opera.
Damn good stuff.
mediate on and harvest
to my level of capability
from these lighten bolts disguised as roses,
these fences made from prism glass,
these marrows which no bone
of the human or the universe could turn aside:
But then, again, isn't the key sum of all things best played on a harp made of pyrite, snakes &n' roses caught in the strum?
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