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Corn fed on portable radio religion the center is where you happen to be. Resting nomads warm the blue rock where only her seven qualities awaken.
High on a mountain a green slab cries out my lover's secret name, still shimmering in moonlit song. Image of body and sad shadows, she marries me in stone tied magic by means of a hand fashioned clod.
She, like the mountain, shifts plays the mistress in moonlight, quakes and stumbles into flower and snakes an eternal path.
Framed with altar horns the blue mountain climber hauls up his inner wish with nothing to gain but his magic, the mother blood he already has.
In caves surrounded by dream the private sorcerer scratches his jeweled scepter across the rock floor combusting metals into fire.
The soul is shown to his armor like a kid to his first bike, jade shoulders and a breast plate of agates and cameos that bestows the powers of ten warriors.
Electric culture is everywhere bounded by cosmic coloring, groaning up the mountainside through the misty promise of the goat path in the heart. |
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ŠJimmy Warner Design, 2010 |