Just scribbling in the bible book taking a gander having a look at what Jesus said, but there's a lot of other things going on with Mathew, Mark and especiallyΒ Jonah who's slightly older.
The unexpurgated edition tells the real tale,
It's a bit Medusa to say the least.
But this is not about religion, that's not my pigeon as the hawk would say, that's if hawks could talk.
it's more of a stroll through the undergrowth where the lichen grows or dipping my feet in the water and wiggling my toes,
Realisation.
nothing is real people craft miracles from icicles and how hot is that?
we talk in rivers of riddles we walk on flesh made of stone
call it a poem call it galvanised steel but nothing is real.
Infinity stretches out like a worm and how do you compete with it or last as long as it.
Repro'
the double and triple, quadruplicated replicas in camera locked in a screen, the ripple that runs through your dream where nothing is real but you know it's not true,
are you the potency of the reprobate?
Summer and the winds are fair to the seafaring man who used to be there but who now lives in the mission.
All things end in the end which is as unreal as it gets.