Vol 1, Num 4 :: 2002.10.25 — 2002.11.07
The wicked beauty, the thundered splendor
and light-flashed glory, the lightning pouring
falling
spilling
turning dark clouds to sheets of platinum
rain clouds dark and grainy, black
and spilling. drizzle, turning
streets to panes of glass reflecting
street lights, reflecting lighting
turning streets to panes of glass
a pail of water.
The sky ignites the electric
charge, the spark of life
the spark of night the sky ignites
the roar of gods the role
of God, the roll of thunder
that shakes the very core
that shakes the floor
i feel it in my soul
return to the basis the
the center of necessity
feel it in your soul
reflect the street lights
the reflection
be a pane of glass the mirrored
sigh
the sky ignites the spark
the night
feel the light she is a god
The thunder
the voice
It is a beautiful night
emerging from the silence, placidity
rigidity the blue of tranquility falls
asleep, surrenders
the violence of the sky
to the violence of the sky
To the violet of the night
she is a peaceful sister
he is a model of division
the medium is the message
fall asleep before the night falls
fall
don’t slip.
The rain descends to coat the world
to drive the worms
up from the soil and send them sifting
through the side walk tortures
the sidewalk tortures
the pavement glistens
depraved runt listens
retraced steps cistern from Egypt
to the grain
reform the system
the twelve brothers beg a bag of grain
there is no rain
return the favor
speak until the thoughts expire
listen to the rain
the thunder strikes the soul
the lightning
it strikes the soul
listen
glisten
reform and
return
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