Casting in and weaving from

the void, we look, and write, think and paint recorded, live alone on what we get therefrom, the nerve of words removed from root and wriggling. The noise we take to making in divine task, in search connecting, the quest to rest transparently and come to close the circuit. O carnival, oblique manifest of spectacle, we will map your sheaves of rot, ionic bond gone blasting from the mouths of all things maimed & coddled into view. We engineer a spiral. We keep our virus clean.