The Blingdom
1, Part one. With sapphire toggles locked on my bootlaces, horse bedazzled and whinnying, the desert gets a little glam. I steal a cigarette from the cigarette tree, lighting with a quick scratch along the inner-side of my jeweled thigh. Far overhead, the eagle is just a lens flare. A series of light puffs polyping from blue. I melted down the harmonica for silver horseshoes. I made a nickel-wound pipe from the guitar. I took that nostalgia and froze it, dappled it like rhinestones along my eye-brows. Because the thing is, you have to look good, even if no-one’s watching. 2, Part two. Swathed in colorful-like materials I collect desiccated wood for the fire. I collect the skin of condoms, the bones of IUD’s, the diaphragms for a fire swathed in color. 3, Part three. The night skypalpates with heat thunder, the hum of woken bees playing decibel chicken against the flashing grounding strobes, shooting from grandiosities. I construct the kanji from the parts for swarm, for burst, for ambu...