“Our worlds frolic around mounds and flesh
of new born petty maggot-fly

while angels fall toward heathen’s floor
unaffected nature’s warmth

its earth, its you, its cotton-sky
hidden fast and etched in frost

for blinding fetch and fury gloss
of children’s shat idols glean

they follow-share, screech and froth
for hollow resin folly moth.”

—spider hacksaw (2013) in loving memory of Karen Black, immortal queen, who died in August, Twenty-thirteen.


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