III Too late to call vagrancy a fad, an experiment. I am too old and still at it. But it isn’t like I am separate

Needless of a judge, a contrite heart is a bird suspended on a current, shifting myriad planes without asking or telling.

Stay until the walls dissolve, problem solved. No Mustangs on this Mesa just a billion stars, a vendetta forgotten, secured.

Hollow fang? Volcano. Cat’s purr? Hymnals. Intuition?

Incense thick with a scent that is true and a bit soiled and dense so dense I lift

You can ask to be shown, opened unto a dimension, swirling, sickening realm. But, woe unto thee fleshly being, dare ye enter that perilous gate

Here comes the awakened caste, to save none from their last. Extinction has been decided best, again, Earth will not

Therein are the spoils of sorrow, the fruit of hardship, where wind snaps and prevails. Death whispers a hollow secret and I still shiver

Hell came through on battered wings, and thought to ask just one last thing. That If I could,

death with a sickle and like most any farmer their work is never done and life never stops springing for… and never tires of trying

He wouldn’t budge to show me what’s a hard heart, my own heart was closed if it was closed to him. Maharajii said,

Nothing is all I ever wanted, now I’ve got it all! Careful! Lest I become a braggart… From nowhere it’s a hard fall.

I feel newly acquainted with this skin, everything is novel, intensity is wherever my eyes land,

There is a most worthy woman, the upper steward of the manor, Obermeyer of Holy Terra, house cute, smokestack simmering,