my mind is dripping down
Greg Devlin's ladders of gold

it's a fair trial from the underground
you'd better wake you up seldom to survive

bomb concert
nobody ever gets overground

it's in a deep toilet past
it's all past the ass

of a dearest thumb
twitching in a grain

where the best animal suns itself
rebirths ugly on a slim salted mountain

banned concert
in the megamegadome

nobody gets in unless they's financial
-ly inspired, hurt small

--into large--
by a spider.

clever metal figures
fine-working sleeves w/brains

can whine about fuck about something
when cats will be there

& a book will often fall out of a book

without the blood stricken
within the blood stricken
dry
as the desert runs away with dessert
and the open are croaking
in the oven hum.