Local Pantheons

Hello with love, comic-

crazed children

of the world!

Nothing is truly

over now, like klutzy

figurative painting.

I saw each golden thread,

there is no landscape here.

There was a time when we

weren’t always interested

in style and crass visuals,

lucky skull bracelets.

Diamonds boost self-esteem,

jasper removes disillusion.

Galileo’s father played the lute.

“Ronald” is on the down low.

Our primary concern now

is sourcing, and the problems arising

from conflicting local pantheons.

Research screenings:

slactivist manoeuvres in the dark

quarter of the city.

They’re all asking ‘What’s to become

of me?’ Like a big-ass weathervane,

I remember the soles of your feet,

an enduring piece of musical theatre

It should not be up to the patient.

The Union of Concerned Scientists

sort items into correct order.

Even so, the rules become increasingly difficult

to obey. A woman rests a brown banana on her

thigh, a man in boots reads a comic book. The life

-time melodrama: once you’re abducted you’re

always hooked, the dawn of mainstream cannabis.

Our audiences, our audiences, Oh Princess of all

the Spains! Petrified wood assists with recalling

past lives. In a vintage Land Rover, on a lost

highway, a designer baby pressed the

monetary pedal and that was

pretty much it.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.