Prone to Fits of Song

Charmed. Don't mind if I comb my hair. So smooth and bodily. It smells of ashtray flowers. Pink lilies of the panty. Unfurled furnace, like a fern and a penis, but both and neither. God on a pedestal, gods on upside down swings. Gods surviving only by water-wings. Choppy sea-idol. Quiet on the set. I have a scene to shoot. It will destroy you. Benny walks into a bodega for a tall boy of beer he cannot afford. He cups the bottom and walks toward the door. The world ends suddenly, from something unimaginable. What about the pale horse from the book about religion? In the cellar there were plenty of books about arguable literalness. From the charming grass a hippie rose to greet the dole, and then the non-violent protests began, and got absolutely nothing done. This was when I made do with a golf club, a softball bat, a lead pipe, and my butcher's knives-- and set out to change the world, one innocent civilian at a time.