Among vegetation and along a ruined column the miracle pill descends its swanlike course. Fray, leak, plunge in olden grace. The worse he gets drunk, the more he grows solemn. The organ of the circle town may deform upon consumption. Stray, speak your bright mind. Among the wild disconnections you may, dying, find obsolete, yet noisy, dreams, irrelevant and warm. He takes the bus through the clay garden. Splendid medicine blooms in aromatic clouds, the island sinks into the ocean. Only the crowds can make a language… can make a language harden. You’re doing something. Sowing a coin in a hole where a hidden root will practice to suffer swelling. Frailly to spin in the minutes mere telling of the old mans deflation to his landscaping soul. Elevate or sink — the narrow movements will not fit the dimension of transforming despite the tangle of thought. Play, fall, seek, in gold erase the tired plot of the ancient growing hole, the grave, the pit.