MEROVINGIAN MAN
That Merovingian man is walking backwards,
his head haunched to almost below his
shoulders. Looking much like an errant Ichabod
Crane, he reminds me of every mystery religion
that ever was : charcoal worshippers and peat-bog
goddesses, alchemists with wise heads and
furious fingers, those with great eagles for pets.
The magic hand, the chimeras of soul, all of
those people who disappeared - walking
steadfastly into some grand Bavarian forest
or the slimes of ancient Rome and Paris.
We know nothing. It is all still a very
great mystery.
That Merovingian man is walking backwards,
his head haunched to almost below his
shoulders. Looking much like an errant Ichabod
Crane, he reminds me of every mystery religion
that ever was : charcoal worshippers and peat-bog
goddesses, alchemists with wise heads and
furious fingers, those with great eagles for pets.
The magic hand, the chimeras of soul, all of
those people who disappeared - walking
steadfastly into some grand Bavarian forest
or the slimes of ancient Rome and Paris.
We know nothing. It is all still a very
great mystery.
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