Thursday, June 17, 2021

A Review of Otherwise Escape --Engaged 7

 I take this volume up in hope to address what lately befalls in the ultra violet expanse let loose. I guess you know. Even if you don't you feel it all the same. So looking for relief here or to address our problems in symbolic form as writers and poets will, here's what I find. My own contribution Morning Star is a travelogue of the baring of the soul with a promise of  a wedding at the end, accounting repentance  and a passage defined. Colen-Baleen Land and Sea. Proboscians and Behemotharians of New Obis  submitted April 1, the first day submissions opened, got no response, so Morning Star which had not been written then was sent many weeks later and did get a positive response, the editor being from north New Mexico, but surprised at the last in the acceptance also of Colen-Baleen, the editor filling out her dance card, we take her in our arms. 

The multiple particulates of the UV bared in Shake Fest of the assassination of cities, states and nations of the world, with the Japanese mythology of the Little Boy bomb bringing Hamlet to join Banquo and the bomb, are supercharged contexts of what is to Come. Chas Erb seems to have no qualms in Alice Under Wonderland against inferring this algorithm that none of us are supposed to believe of George Bush, Eisenhower and all their ilk Trump did not make the grade as Chas wrote before the time warp. The Black Holes piece of del Sur starts out reasonably enough, viewing Antarctica from space but then it burrows into the ice for an unseasonable Newshamlaben myth of how Podesta and political figures became centaurs, and for that matter what centaurs even are, at risk if we think they are horses of instruction.  If you think or daydream that hoofs are coming out of their arms up in the DC Washes and you hear the clatter of marble feet in halls, it's all dredged out of Lake Vostok. Colon-Baleen might slip in after the Black Holes have landed, as a slice of life to be expected in Brave New World, people bathing in putrescent whales, building cities right out of Frank Gehry's dress up. Who knows but that they even speak whate, the colloquial language of that species Wittgenstein spoke, knowing we're not talking about whales at all, but the Leviathan. It does not right away give a ho, ho, ho, but should. To read Disclosing the Canopean Premise after all this heavy plowing our roads is one of those David Icke mysteries. Should Icke be let back into Australia  to wreak destruction upon their epidemic mouse explosion? If any of this is for you you are only your own my dears, With Love.

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