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In a warm place, in another world, the rainbow always wins.
Alone in my room, I grow a tree of silver. This is my experiment, my raison d’être. Mercury infiltrates the silver nitrate solution: a nun’s veil billows, then glittering crystal forests sprout from the druidical bubble.
The trituration of a moment is a delicate and lengthy process.
The roulette wheel is spinning.Are you playing Scobe’s Wager again? And you know the house will grind you down in the end,it always does, to everyone.
You will chase those losses, I know you will. You will play the chameleon, and lose again.You will stand and watch the ball spin on the backtrack and slide down the bottom track and bounce off the wheel head and into a pocket, but not the pocket you chose.
The tenderest delusion points me toward another black door.
Winter’s witness, I blunder among the birches, searching for something under the snow…I know it’s there, it must be there…