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Two and a half millenia ago Christ’s coming was foretold,… And so those wise who came from far to find the newborn king, whose star they’d seen, the prophet’s words were told, – went on to Bethlehem with their gold.

Prophets limp on silver seas Huddled over crutches they remain so blissfully unaware they’d begged for No traction against the inevitable Fall from neither grace nor flooded coffin,

The animal terminology of a mental savage forms from the rubble its projections left too far behind to ever fully appreciate; Taking to social convention

ecru brute ?

shall so you will be opposite to you and me plenty a words long a sewn across a stone where lies a loon knock you so the door upon waking up the leprecaun stay so thy hand run afar

buildings crumble and windows break

back on track Pia. I think?

I write best when I use a fountain pen For then I can best map the rivers of blue (better than black). The eyebrows of ink arching the i's Stroking the t's. As the vein-blue capillaries sink

From a class. It's inspired by Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino, and partially based off New York City. It's also part of a "world establishing" thing I'm doing for some writing I plan on doing eventually.