Death, the vixen with waterfall fishnets gave Trickster a wand-job. Anomalyst egg spurted from the ocean floor phoenix. Circus-bandits on dream-fin whales smuggled me out of Phantasmopolis. I misplaced my prism-heart in the mouth of a maelstrom and overdosed on the wine of violent poetry. Stone made flesh made word and my waveform was dropped in the groove of Saturn’s galaxophone. Transmitted on blood orange beams, I return like the loss of a great love, circulating our solar body-system until you play a game of seventy times 7 minutes in heaven on earth with your joy-lust for Life.