The fashion world’s operating in dog years, but there’s no Greek involved. Six squared bosoms is not enough for four score months. The invisible Jewish king lamented Jeremiah’s blank bill. Hannibal’s alps were connected three to seven—it made no sense in Hertfordshire. Witness this—seventh son in succession to the black spade queen maria—Obama’s loose change jangled—birds sing. The alignment of the dog and the snake meant bad news—my dark rosy lenses fogged. The bad tit of unity lies to protect. Nineteen dark binary digits made ten. No coins fell—antiquities gathered. Make it past the double 27 club. Ignore Saturn. Ignore Satan. Perfection has stability as its cost.

Written in 2007. First published here.