Prayer the Churches banquet, Angels age,
Gods breath in man returning to his birth,
The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgramage,
The Christian plummet sounding heav’n and earth;
Engine against th’Almightie, sinners towre,
Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear,
The six-daies world-transposing in an houre,
A kinde of tune, which all things heare and fear;
Softnesse, and peace, and joy, and love, and blisse,
Exalted Manna, gladnesse of the best,
Heaven in ordinarie, man well drest,
The milkie way, the bird of Paradise,
Church-bels beyond the starres heard, the souls bloud,
The land of spices; something understood.

Irrational visions hovering,
dimensions of reflection
off & on, on & off.
The asylum, full of sound minds.    
Dr. Jones, a patient & neurotic.
Milkie offers psychedelics, alcohol,
rotgut, black water & all.
Guitar store stocked with toiletries.

Mad lovers, born yesterday,
to love & walk through hell.
Period blood grotesque beauty,
as good & sweet as nectar.

The road ebbs & flows,
ending & starting like an elevator.
Angels seem like demons,
& demons seem like angels.
Urination & nightmare
the shore between dreams & reality,
assumed as the shore
between oceans & beaches.
Every dream, every dimension—
they all rot the same.
No escape. No exit.
Delay & Reverb of your
own Organism & suffering
begging for something real.