
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
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About istsfor manity
i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....