Unable to face its tender origins,
the harnessed Loki succumbs to its soft mother
washing its miracle wings in the basin of images,
the lamp-like horns retired, from head to herm,
the path blocked, resumed, upon the highest vision,
a ship pulled in from the sea, the word 'at the tip of the tongue'
only later revealed by earnest urchins escaped from a utopian slavery,
the 'nurse' which inserts the 'vision',
or the smoke which departs from the fire of history
urging, " Use Vie, Live as Dirt-Fairy, The S's tails,
headless but presenting presence, a threshold,
the casual friend between your breasts,
no, the severed head lifted by ear-like floats,
the awnings which shade the production
to prevent unwanted cant, but remember,
only the threshold may truly displace,
its provocation only a name,
a hovering grille unable to hide,
or reveal, the bewildering vista,
the trained agents,
which corrupt the night's sanguine blurring
into absolute abodes,
the beast who echoes the perfect frame
of the ecstatic disorder.
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Irrony Observes The Earthing.