CONSTANTLY AMAZED BY DANIEL 'DL' LANDES We draw strength from the decay around us, like children playing on the banks of a poisoned river, we cleanse ourselves in foul water and coagulated fat. Never stuck, we draw butterflies on the inside of our concentration camp walls and blow them alive and away over the razor wire to alight on the limb of the old cypress tree. Hand in hand we leave fresh tracks in the ash of cities in riot and skip stones off the reflection of the blood moon. We are not the red flesh pasted to a white wall of a preschool surrounded by cop cars and media vans. We are not the shooter within. We are not what travels in and out of our mouths and our assholes. We just happened upon this place; to us there is only beauty. So we coo to each other in museum whispers; constantly amazed by the end of the world. No. 149
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