Spires of Ryan

soap shoes

under flaps of denim

winged beast, I am

in this stripper light


vape stick
romantic flatbill
Arabic selfie
payday kōan

Κύριε Ἰησοῦ Χριστέ, Υἱὲ τοῦ Θεοῦ, ἐλέησόν με τὸν ἁμαρτωλόν

VEDIC SEXTS
MOORISH CREST STRIPS
FRIGHTENED IN THE STRATUS

"THIS IS THE FONT OF PLEASURE"
IT IS NOT IN THE SOCIAL DEMOCRATIC PONZI

A BLINK OF THE HISTORICAL EYE
//THE WILD BLOOD OF CHRIST\\

sati, salos

widened eyes

the entire party stopped
we shuffled out into the Indian summer
streets of Mountain Brook

Lexus leather
strongly odoriferous,
the waft toward my nostrils
is slow and solar

"That wasn't me back there."

I'm supposed to nod.

we watched the smoke rise from our phones

in Pythagorean horror
our eyes danced from point to point
in the never-grasped present

the wild bones of saints
press against the garments wrent

if Christ is God
this world is split