Wrung on a guitar wire between Vishnu's dream, Yahweh's 7th day and a rat whiskered stray's drooling front canines hung a 'Soul-On Strings'. Next door---an emerald bird nestled in a batch of unripe bananas looked on in relation as emissaries of the unconscious shamble for their nearest avenue of expression.
Overhead a voice was heard; "may all Christ's future baptisms be hereafter poured from the ctiy's fluoridated water ducks". Three minutes later the whole world was holding hands with each palm linked to the other by the gulag's iron bracelets. "What reptile with feet of clay shall we finesse with Rome's bundle of rods today", they'll ask.
Finally the bananas ripen. Already they are browning. The bird(now canary yellow), however, has flown while the Soul On Strings pinches silence into a strummed cord.
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