word flow

the secret is that they built atop it the corpse growing reeds and vines and two steps into the labyrinth we've been misplaced - imagine these buildings towering, this city of canyons and ravines and consider the story of the dragons who fought beneath lake waters and echoed the end of the world the way the norse grew a world tree who budded ragnar or a wormwood revelation at the gilded tower foot-- I've heard talk of alchemy and alembics and I wonder if that metaphor is not improper. this transmutation of rough core iron to ruddy gold like blood, liquid like melted sugar, precious like melted sugar; how many ways to challenge a quid pro quo I need this to get back in but I can't keep up with Huidobro yet though he exposes his secrets and his corpse is lush.

we must concern ourselves with the manufacture of new images
so repeatedly, I see a child on a cloud, yellow boots dangling
but it seems to pale against
Huidobro's "bird perched on a rainbow"

Ivy and buds and refuse.