Don't wait until the last minute 🕔. #worldcakeent Got some of the hottest 🔥🔥🔥🔥parties in the 🌃. Presale tickets going fast 🚨. #atlsuperbowl53 (at Def Jam Recording Studio) https://www.instagram.com/p/BtRVH6vA3hT/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=745omwylnlvo
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a scaling fish went up
the well this morning we were rolling diced flesh, vegetables, little sounds
and on the periphery
a circumambulation of wailing, scratching at the gates
and vehicles wrecked on
serpentine bollards
holding junkie coats
float fuming pyres and fall,
fall to the abyss
bubble up in sulfur vents,
tar seeps raise imperious plumage
the sun screams militant
in the deep sky cold summer
a raining zeal,
for spices and gold and flesh
sentient flesh and for that
quivering
carcass
exquisite
with an extravagant
nom de guerre,
Earth of gorging and of spouting,
Earth of dance and fuming signs
fumaroles, wellsprings
and so, on that dying mothers skull and on her dark breath
calipers and psychonanalysis
on those cranial crevices
trepanning and bloodletting
with a sense of
ravening and spouting,
dancing in a welder's mask
metallic combustion
sprinting in an army hat
and we do gorge on the soldering
with shrapnel in our teeth
you cannot pick it out,
must use it magpieish,
make the tools
to flip the worldcake,
from the broken whisk and bowl.
there was a crow hid in a deep place,
and she had such tar-black feathers sought after by every thing:
by whirling rods of metal with perfectly even teeth,
by empty, shining suckthings
by ink-black
uttered
utmost
garden slipped through
sand and gravel
in the crows beak dead things fizz
devoured long ago by grey-brown sleeping geese, herons, frogs, muskrat and alligator,
by imprint of to-be-sacrificed
and the great things shake,
who turn the rock into a pool of water,
the flint into a spring of water-- And so the gorging, spouting, ravenous
raised up with its great scaled hood,
raised up as by Prospero--
and every meager actor,
the businessmen and warlords paid,
swallow their denarii,
the capitalist and puppet,
dance away their sorrows in that fading place,
and we watch with lit black candles,
send them down to pukéd space,
with the clattering and hubbub
of gorging and of spouting,
dancing in mechanic's clothing
eye-caught by each other whirling
in those welder's masks.
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Cake I made for a memorial. #rip #memorialcake #worldcake #aroundtheworld #suitcasecake #cake #cakedecorator #foodieforlife
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☕️
it is arrived. it tries to be a waffle, made too of softness rising with sweetness over the regretting proclaimer but more like wampum terrifying tall dangerous people who own the house hold terrifying weapons, speak a song of muscled shadows in tree boles and stand, quietly, talking. this is coffee. it remains forest it gives, still, the best nest scent, it calls to me in berries. it bursts the world. it is worldtongue. it is worldcake baked with pressed history and custard blood onto the cheeks of my lovers. it stands up to my mouth to lever chewed-off dark wood in every painting, every struck smell from a canvas, from a small plane in my ceiling. it is me stopped. the chainsaw teeth pause, just as long as a taste they stop their heartbite out of my blood limbs and i get to sip.
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