astute and dead


I am the name of . . . do not . . . agree with . . . sat in and was a part of . . . none of that will do . . . tiny executioner words on a stick, tiny worlds of execution. have made a habit of removing random nails from random crosses. if you agree . . . lets talk, ask questions, do the right thing; ancient and dream-like. a paradigm of cast-iron rumble and red hot pig iron. from behind the hand . . . the world disappears . . . flooded in selfhelp grids . . . fragment and shouts . . . in the morning someone whispers something . . . the clouds tease us with rain . . . the distance is a spy tube and droplets sounds. you seem to understand the tiny brittle needles arecovering the past . . .you say, electrodes to for the dead