Home of The Evening Psychic : : trembling in his wake
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BLUE LILIES the second album from BLUE DUST ARCHIVE is now streaming/available everywhere:

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WHEN THIS YOU SEE, REMEMBER ME, the new album from GREATER BIRD OF PARADISE, is now available digitally.

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This is an archiv of durable phenomena
to record the effforts of
a flute of numbers
with a mouse in its head
ENJOY THE MEAT OF THE WIND
WE WHINE IN A GROTTO OF HEAT
I have no mercy for the devoid of chrysalis banging shoes against forest fires
mastication
blithering moats
bound in flight
crowned with wardens
reveal us, stewards of hell
There is a dirigible of spasming light coating the tongue of our heat
heart rattling chicken bones
discover the mountain empire
fast, emboldened and
structured like a dream
with hot fingers gliding
across the clavicle,
and suckle upon the
gannets and slumbers
too well, too thoroughly,
and fractionated blessings
thrust from the surface of
a convent as tattoos
of milk
diaphanous gold and specter of deranged myth
ladybugs cleaning its teeth
dotted epiglottal starry jangles
a foot to bereave and goad into the snow
dust off the lips
inchoate struggles
bitter and ruptured damages
cones of powder
delicate shadows wrapped around insidious brows
sculpture of a human heart
breath of the dime
scripture of a human heart
supple masks for the edge of the eyes
no pronouncement
a bleeding tongue doused in angelfire
a pattern lost to the vogue of announcement
don’t accept the architecture of definition
don’t belie the tunnels of crouching sorrow
I have no stomach
I have no branching sour lights
gobbling treats to denounce the public
a fortune in myth
a dubious lout governing stubborn winding slobbering idiotic babbles
so idyllic and profound that the
wind has scraped itself off of the power
that fletches it from a donated peregrine
don’t ask me what to do
I have no alembic grace, an ovarian stubble -
coloratura of the rats
derelict paint throttled east and west
beyond tables and buttons
unbelievably bad dripping stale beaks
you morph
you squirm
you trample and gobble the night
no insemination of dust
to bring loitering deacons to the prow
I snicker at the fleeting blood