With rung and twine tight and nail. From earth to star, from dirt to air, from pit to spire and anchor. And with hands and feet, to climb and to hold, stations, states and stages. An axis with rod and with ring. From past night toward future sun rise. Hold on and climb down. A centre held with wrought of might. Of power cast. From body shroud to brain crown. Structure found and continuity forged. Like spokes from ceremonial wheel, captured to connect that which is above and that which is below.


Your New Tower

Excavate order to establish your tables. A tooth seal, a bone seal, a skin seal and a blood seal. These grids will hold together elemental properties so that you may prepare your way. I will cast my shadow onto the ground you need and mark the earth with charts of stars that have long disappeared. The trajectories of their haunted orbits conceive a map, plotting inverted recollections, past peripheries and ground to break. The holes in time and space left by these undead stars secure the coordinates for your secret tower. A tower that will bring law to unclean mythologies and purify the stagnant wells of fallen gods. I will watch you mold your bricks from a distance for they are poison to me. From the wet dirt, a kabala of chalk, rust and ash will be the base. These methods, to make manifest a form that ladders into the sky unseen. Such are hoary and such are dormant beneath. Construct your foundation from the blueprints chattered to you by my pointed teeth in your sleep. Traverse this horizon, this visceral strata, these shifting plates and build your tower where the lines connecting all the holes in the sky meet. Pay attention to your footing. I will wear my heart heavy on my sleeve for you as you make this journey, build and weave new talismans together to fortify your house that connects the sky to the ground. 


Separate Tail from Stinger

Separate tail from stinger and domesticate these strange devices that trigger memories a thousand years old. Replace your falsified objects that glow in the dark and suck the warmth from your room and lay waste to your dreamtime. Activate invisible, sealed door locks by cutting the air with these violent tools on borrow from a museum built upon a mound of cicada shell. Slaughter your old tools, for they are slow from the drinking of your blood and sleep. Bury them and build a mound for them, for in time they too can become true and holy and violent. Return your borrowed bells and mirrors, magnifying glasses, and ladders and rings. Acquire new objects and milk antidotes from their poison teeth.