unedited preface (for kim)

 i walk through the portals of hell hogg dreamed of (in edinburgh), infinite in blakean variety that litter the shades of residue in gloomy towns as mine

there is one cure for thunderstorms and that is a similar solution from a solumunable

as myself that is-poetry-a opiod i find keeps books on shelves,that plus good solitude revoultionary as milton or a shelley

byron if we are lucky,curled up in weather with something of Scott and dr johnson 

the bust of dequincey on my shelf urges me in my disesase to implore you gentle birches to let fall your leaves and control your surroundings the shadows that kneel at oaks and dig tumultuous graves 

where lay no poets buried and if not so

what great poets they were to be censured by time

ah and those thoughts that little misery that stab (little devious midnight knives) in making them all but subdued in chains

as Cerberus of hades!!! im sure a dark wave on the edge of a coal-mining town is destined for fates as sodom

retreat to your locus Enochian bacchantes disturb not other peoples rites revel in what freedom states by living 

keep to your domain as dark sheds lights through pulled blinds

though there are peepers for your ride  

and Milton(the town) its Gomorrah so when it rains fire

upon forgotten stones who labour freely nothing to rely on-weight

writer please write on 

with no hate

by your own light

guided and master magician

do what thou wilt 

write your inner compass

it shall be right!!!