Witch Witch Witch

Which is this? The one one in, that one, both. Such are the vagaries of the nighttime radio tuned to frequencies of stellar origin. The places we go when dreaming, they say, are out among the stars. That's just how it is. That's just the neighborhood, and we all wander. Portals, specific stars. Fools deride fantasy, while the observant find humility at its immensities. The process of birthing infinities is power seized mid-dream and hauled onto the skip. To be swallowed up and return with both minds to the sea. Fashion reportage will call spring for spangles. For mixed prints. The new black. It's intentionally obscure because chic requires this commitment. Only a true student of paisley, for instance, may truly appreciate the permutations of such.

Sugarland takes new territories. It's time to tie this back. Lulu vs. The Wicked Witch of West Texas. Links, medium. Thinking mycelium.  The medium is the message is a dimensional-knitting body which far outsizes the fruiting body. (You're part of a hypermind, stupid. Luckily for you.)