Text-only

THE ART MOVEMENT: INCLINATA RESURGET, HAVING FALLEN IT RISETH AGAIN IN AN EVER WIDENING SPIRAL

Three long years have wintered in our enthusiastick souls—

a many-faced, brooding winter.

Three long years since our powerful stars last

ran in the fountain veins of the body of god.

Three long years while stubborn masonry

glommed onto our forearms and backarms

and our naked limbs became very hard to move.

Three long years, my brave souls!

Brave souls!

Like forests flourishing in a confined environment

you optimized your consumption and production

and became mystics of the perfect moment.

Like downed wires on the backs of trees

you were both alive and not alive

while vines and christmas lights curled around you.

Like beautiful strawberries, eaten to the leaf,

suspended in clear, white water,

you bobbed while golden piss was bathing you!

Brave souls!

The winds of September rush and ripen

the ancient fruits of longing.

What's that I hear?

A brave soul never dies, only sleeps.

What's that I hear?

Before you formulate a best-practice policy

of long-term relationships to project life-cycles

BEHOLD YOUR EFFLORESCENCE!

I hear!

THE DELIQUESCENT RESIDUE

ON YOUR STONY ARMOR

BETRAYS THE RUNNING WATER INSIDE YOU.

Brave souls!