Honey & Sulphur

For he spake—The gates of divinity part and out rush predatory birds. The taste of strawberries. The shepherd raises their right hand, breaks bread. An owl by any other name. There is a merry gaiety in harvesting human teeth from nectarous fruit.—and it was done.



He commanded—A hellscape of rot and rut. Brittle angels and biting insects. Flutes salt the earth. The corpse of a coelacanth dissolves into pastel foam. Sibilant language chewing women, ushering neurotoxins, belching charred oak. And, then, rain.—and it stood fast.



Ekphrastic prose and poetry in (ir)reverence to The Garden of Earthly Delights.