You fat, presiding gasballs, masking as prophetic lights. You crowbars, who have snaked between us, cosmic gremlins that loosen bolts, saw apart dovetails and hurl us to separate, snagged-off limbs of land. Had I
A guide for those who would be savvy: Beware carousels that have no horses painted in E-number colours, slow-motion pogoing, speared on gold rods. Besaddled boxes with penned-on eyes are sadly common