Nevryst

Once I had a sueno verde in it we walked on the grass verde raindrops verde puddles verde leaves and verde glass in my green dream we wandered over dale and hill in my green dream your green eyes seemed so telling soft and enigmatic, distant, idiosyncratic lucid questioning and dreamy what a curious flowing feeling green to grey and freely flowing back again, your soul was showing for a moment, in the green! It fled upon sight, it's been flighty and flaky just like you when you agreed to meet me, from the blue and nearly passed out in my arms and vanished, with all of your charms and neurological narratives, barely alarme

The Iron Rose a fairytale. Once there lived a people who liked to wear tall cylinders on their heads. Every day, before going out to work in vast fields of flowering copper and valleys of iron, these people would kiss their wives on the cheek, don a shiny new cylinder, and walk merrily across their metal paths to their mechanized carriages. Sometimes they would take their carriages to watch the blue sea and its creatures. Far away there lived another people, and they loved mechanized carriages and flowering fields and all the beauties of the sea as much as the cylinder-tribes. But these people lived in arid climes, in vast desserts of rust

When biology’s belief, perceptions alter and reality’s excuses pause and falter Well then, take a breath and leap to that perilously deep dreamy mindscape tucked away – keep your conscious thoughts at bay – and allow a dream to creep in, unbidden, in the steep cliffs, lush meadows, rolling hills quaintly dotted white windmills… or perhaps your dreams reside cross the open prairie, glide where the hawks and owls stray in a forest’s leafy sway. Or, do you prefer, like me a singular mindscape, the sea? all moonlit, dark, with jet-black sand where buffeted by winds the land retreats in obsidian-la

With ease infinity contained within a single sigh you raised your eyes to watch the migrants fly across the sloppy plaza with the police at their heels they scattered in their aprons and their tears… in Arizona stands an little barbed wire fence it's standing in the desert for our own defense the migrants try and offer work, survival, tips instead they take our healthcare; on the annular eclipse I stare into the violet sun's rim and I look away a Mexican face haloed in my cornea remains… the costumes may be singed but let's head together south to Rio from this pouring rain, a private train compartment through the windows

I stood there, taking tea with you, a swill of black and milk-greased brew – upon a charred lawn, bitter ash swept crumbling tea leaves into our pastry plates and with this draft sipping, wafting, madly we laughed. "Wasteland is always desolate. Here, it never rains." The waste was desolate, of course, because it never rained. The clouds hung expectantly over the sagging fronds of the mill, the dilapidated mill, the hanging mill which was a home. T'was a dusky brillig. The sky glowered and the air hung heavy over the pallid earth. Starched, blanched, charred grass pricked, like stubble, on that pale face of the lawn. The table,

Nadia Vinogradova    2 – 3 – 1 – 4 9.date.1957 English 360 The Red Queen Hypothesis 1. Alarms: Dr. Gould was presenting his lecture on "Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation" but it must have been a very volatile matter, because after the words left Gould's lips and before they reached Andy's ears, they had evaporated without a trace. Dr. Oddelov wanted a report on this innovative technology. When Andy saw the red beam of concentrated light, he thought of Svetlana. Monty protested the politics of the discovery. Red was communism was Soviet support, whereas green was greenbacks was capitalism was America