Autumn Cannibals by skullflower

and the thunderbolt whirs on... a prayer, an emission, snaking from between my fingertips. a rip, a tear in the fabric, other universes clamoring at the tip of my nose. the quinox is break, a gateway. the year is a room with four corners, changes of direction, broken on the wheel, the sunwheel that whirls us, giddy, widdershins. thinking of autumns fires, dead leaves: Fire and Hemlock, snares and delusions, the queen of the fairies, through a glass, dark and fair....

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