The continuation of "For"

For Duncan McNaughton

Having tasted the earth - pomegranate's teeth incise a fictive tongue for lyrics. Oh baby, what is driven insane divines the sane's wellbeing. How is it you lick the phosphor off the tongue of a seed without being burned? Planted and growing share a natural causality like shit and shoe. Sheer cutting towns, passer by, by the sex shop store front, latex wakizashis inspires evolution: Valpariso rising son. It's a trick of the light when everything is visible, every impossible gesture green and horny with its own accusation; how you pluck a peach is the peach's doing. When you roam the two Romes and all the same shtick lights lavender, Jesus sitting with a high ball of cheap whiskey, your voice, and the horse echo of a horse people, sweep the veil past centuries of melting ice. Charles the map, the Thames and a locus of all Asiatic conflict brewed together like Raki.