pituitary phenom, muppet with unshelled

eggs for eyes.

whose dilation's the yoke of a molding cellar

wall, that has never been looked on.

a dry grey mane that wigs his skull like a

cobwebbed broom in overcast.

his slanting squat protracts & threatens to

dislodge his elongated bones.

each howling the winds of his caution--

caved in his overeager mouth.

a knuckled-up grip obscures the torso

of his son.

which by proportion notes the size of his

hands, akin to manhandling a loaf of bread.

though bread plays its part in parable, as so

its body bleeds.

Saturn devouring his Son, his head & right

arm depict the clean cut of a single bite, or

a meticulous succession.

the upper body is a thick outline of blood that

refuses to run--as the left arm of Saturn's Son seems

to gag him in protest.

his buttocks stream down his dangling legs--a

cosmic voodoo doll with its pins popped out.

toccata of wind driven

snowflakes--landing within

stained glass windows.

as in between.

allowing for the oblique

radiality of all stained glass...

that repatterns its

worship.

coughing fits of dust are kicked up

by a giant--wearing great sunken cities

at the swells of his bare feet.

oceanic puddles splashing over every stride.

he reaches down to secure Noah's Arc

between his right thumb & pointer finger, as

if it came out of a ******* Jack box.

all the couplings of his animalia reinforcing

his totemic Tower of Babel.

with ant colonies of men working on molten

scaffolds of gold.

the building blocks of his washover being--

cast him out, of where?

with ineffable dramaturgies.

whose performances were witnessed by him

in such a way--that he became an unseeable

morsel placed in his own mouth.

with the taste of no kind of food, to consume

the height he was no longer aware of.

a capped lens' burst mode--in

Parisian catacombs.

Beksinski's monolithic chiseling

with the feather of Maat.

airbrushed putrefaction, whose

spray recondenses fog--to harden the

elevation of stripped faces.

medieval hillsides of conflating greenery,

cryptified human stage work to avoid being

burned at the stake.

the rattle tattle of bones banging away on a

silent bell.

ensuring the lip of its upside down cup can recoat

further wanderings--or leave be.

there's no shramming spleen to rail

against, come the winter solstice.

hotbeds of vampires stretch out to

make snow angels.

light deprivation projects its own creature

features.

received with the most lone & enthusiastic

review.

the doubleback of dark pressed against windows--

not far to meet any emergence from sleep.

uncut prolongations, tar-skipping streets throwing

off characterizations of litter.

unnerving the foot traffic of extras

spreading cabin fever.

the directorial debut of the 21st.

the squelch of the Maenads' feet

danced grass into mud.

their murderous waters breaking--

carrying Orpheus' head in their bellies.

their glazed masks of perspiration became

stuck to weedy tresses of hair--loose as the

plucked strings of Orpheus' lyre.

their droplets of sweat premixed with blood.

Dionysus obliterating memories of irreversible

inebriation between his teeth--grape clusters

downing his chin like a handfed babe.

Orpheus' harmonic Sparagmos--where the

eidolon of every G*d reverberates an uppermost

image.

as Orpheus' head meandered, crashed & tumbled

thru the River Hebros--his lyre stayed by this throat.

playing dismemberment.

the goat song of tragedy.

undercurrents of Hades saturating Hebros with the

narrowest name of water--leading out to...