Begin with the final clay.
Add bricks that begin with the letter “L.”
Watch for fractal splatters of Pete Townshend doing the windmill thing.
And then maybe Abbie Hoffman gets whacked by the guitar for introducing politics into it.
The Romantic movement. Goethe. And all the fiends that groped with an alarming schadenfreude through those empty boxes for the nub of a bone.
Bones drift, splinter. Dark eyes watch. Beware the brown acid. Uh oh, the tent’s coming down again. Shit. We forgot that Utopia doesn’t exist.
Wipe that face off your head and help me with this terrible weight.
Add the gallery of status quo, the lurkers at the threshold of no time.
End with a big bang.