THE FREEMARKET OF SOUND (aka The happenstance of Jazz)

Supermarket supernovas...quillstomp quag of quixotic quipsonic phonic philharmonic...fall into the cracks of elliptical obsidian, orbiting the universe, mired deep in the instantaneous, in the soupy rhythm kitchen's soup stocked shelves of canned heat red giants, and the inconspicuous universal forces resonating with increments of music and rules of the conservation of angular momentum...and such...he secretly knows there are parts of the universe with whirlpool suns, and cubed suns, he relishes in his private certainty, sure the fire spitting twisters hold dreams and the armour of the Gods in them. Tempered by these truths, he draws on Apollonic chariots...surefire wisdom harvesting the ingots of time....suspended somewhere in the happenstance of Jazz.

Image by Andy Warhol