Poems from Isaiaho
Eleven seats of a multi-faced deity, where, on the one seat it chews a gum, on the other he spits a bubble, and on the many others she...
And thus shall I have my bread. And shall have it no other way but knead by true Egyptian feet. For I find nothing able to suit my bread...
Remind me again when moon pores run deep, boring needily for sweat that forgets what it is to course their way out, to toss them the boots...
Stomachs when they will, will so: that smell may happily happen by, by the by.
Why come ye mouthful of wows, and of lips gone round?
Run...