IN THE VERNACULAR

KNOCK KNOCK We bleed in a multi - spectrum of paint swatches We breathe the exhaust of weeping willows Plugged into a wall of green foliage our fuel is a rare chloroform. Organs, drenched in the acid bite of a deadly virus. Even prayers flow like a silence and fall before reaching ears. Test tubes are the messengers of our work. Who will answer your door. Armand Hamouth