Clock’s and Calender’s Crimson Spell

The visuals of the mind are lush with the advertisements and the theater of forgetfulness for a fun cause. “Forget about troubles! Forget about us! We’re all about retiring from you! Evermore you! Forever!”

Tunneling past landlocked locations and costing past west coasts, deserted in a desert with spangles and an array of stars in the night sky. Nighttime is everybody’s and the daytime’s sunlight is good for us, our health. There is a sense of plurality in the green cover of trees teaching lessons that wishes are counted, counted in numbers, discounted by deeds. A sense of being and not becoming, a blow without brains, a roar of rudimentary rebellion is love of the verses distanced from splendor. Sighs, breaths, huffs and howls churn into means of show. But you can stop for a minute. Stop, happily.

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