Journey to some stale beer container
the five hundred year flood moved to north beach for protection purposes since the more to the point room related directly to moving thru space that is what something sometimes could follow
a chant, an incantation, a mantra to the onslaught of time machines even as the glare turns to crimson between the smeared ink and the accustomed syntax t h e b u s j e r k s b l a c k s m o k e was put in that now lies in a pile of spittle.