prosaic static
Wyndham Jornowski
looking floorward to it.
pork transfer
patina of satan
the aesthetics of contrast
synchronate harmony
drowning in crowns

stop me looking forward feeding too it. looking floorward, fleeding it
to it. fleeding tune it. streets filled with rain, long low european
streets filled with rain, low overcast sky and dark planks and wickets
and boards and lanes. Trees without a scrap, nude in a leaden sky. Nude
in a leaden skin. A sky without a plane. Wet and soaked planes under a
planeless sky. Planes can't fly in this! they can't fly in even a
drizzle!

Jones cannot take a day off. Jones is the man in the high control box.
Jones is the man in the tall control tower. The tall tower of control,
six feet or so, with a windowed box above. with its cockpit skull
above, and Jones, the little man, Jones & the Shadowpig.

Winnowing in the windowbox. Harvest and sow in the windowbox

Jones on a rivet to Mercury! Travel ticket to Mercury on the 2 a.m.
express. If you like bein a troglodyte! It's just kinda neat knowing
the sun's like...right there. Yeah, it's just the solar system counting
house...frankly rather be on Pluto, yer talkin extreme environments.
Solar system control tower & security module, that's all...that's one
big, big orbit too!