THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION AND STROBING SANTA
Sucking craggy rocks pebble smooth my mother walked into the wall of an opium den. She bloodied her nose, broke water, and expelled me on an ottoman. I mooned and glowed to the on/off, on/off of a stroboscopic Santa Claus.
“It is with words as with sunbeams. The more they are condensed, the deeper they burn.”
— Robert Southey
thee istsfor manity reader 