Description

          Description

 

In the land of the sticky mist

Pictures are windows that look back at you

And words are songs

Where you forget the name of unnaming.

When the whole beast calls

Then tongues hold nothing

Fire does burn

Clocks are dancers

And only drunkards can walk a straight line.

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

When Four Worlds Collide

Gabriel Scandal Rocks Vatican, Mecca

Force of the People