Strobe Anna

Early cuts of a creative novel.

Every time I try to paint the pieta, something happens - the Vatican! That must be where it's from. Alabaster walrus trots thru the Poe. Edvar Greco reenacts the globular mysteries of his shining fondness. Gandhi's spinning wheel rhymes in strands wiv the deaf metallic krypton. Iconoclast shifts twice in the wind. A grasshopper appears whirring a chorus of Sidney Bechet....

Obama Whitmanite

Swords clashing with the to and fro centaur warblings. Anna arrives from her retreat in the upper stratosphere. Ffestiniog railways festooned with oodles of imagination. Pay no attention to the lashing rivulets for they are possessed with the dementia of silent dead feet.

Captain Strobe: Ahar! Well I'll be, I have found the pearl at the bottom of the oceans.

Anna: A chorus came upon them. Has anyone found my fleetwood mac cd?

Strobe: The very essence of the mandala you see is made up of a tiny amount of green hairs that fibrillate ever so rapidly, creating the cosmic illusion that you are on an organic pirate ship.

Anna: I've got a funny feeling in my bones. There's a hermit out in those woods, and he's taken a fancy to my doorknocker.

A Ginger Emma Hanid sprinkling paprika on my mother's grave.

Ghosts aboard ship.

A turgent demon appears writhing furiously. Red beard mayavision...
Razor sharp beard, cutting the edges off concords. How does it seem? Am I merely living a religious dream? Motionless scorpion revolving on the night's hibiscus andolution.
selectivity appears conquering the inner savage.

Ruthfull Rackham appears, forstering secrets in a jar. "Woof" he cries as he leaps into the silent yellow cavern, the Chinese chef's daughter's lair. "A lantern for thee". All plastic it was with a charming melancholy around it. "We were told three days was the correct amount of time to wait for the black ooze. It still hasn't appeared." Cold atrophy all around. The night gleamed with the violet-coloured stroganoff. As the apathy weaned it's blue cusp around the foolish neighbours, the water on the sill rippled gently. "An omen from afar" whispered Ruth Shakti.

Mayavision the golden masked avatar appears. Razor beard hand cut by his own poetic hand. "I shall appear in seven days. And I shall paint a wonderful cymballistic Shakti. A near spontaneous ritual.
A green greek god appears dressed in orange. He is lolloping up and down, drinking Aspall Cider. His eyelashes are slightly drooped. His red wicker mexican hat falls down over his head. He pukes in a skip on the way back from watching football at the pub. A banjo playing stiff lays abandoned naked tattered in the hall.