The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge. They are a bloody mouthful.

Thursday, 19 May 2011

ONC11_015D_628708

Fragrant flavoured as Lilly but Lilly wasn’t there

This is the way of the mere pool mirror – phasing in and phasing out

It keeps the nights fresh from tedium

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3 comments:

Ruela said...

v. nice C.J.

Anonymous said...

amen

Anonymous said...

Ditto, Albert.