The Dream Scene - "Alien vs. Predator"

Purring necking jingling living nesting rising dusting striking spiking thirsting rending unenthusiastically taking, truthful, thoughtful, tearful blue, heartfelt ghostly gamey, ninefold, free gold. Bent sideways, chasing, gracing, red, car parked, felt art, hurt tin crush fold lying flattened, flattened out. Vented wind wound windows, surround by windows to let the air come through and shake, shikka, shake shake.

Quiet Hooves - "Hott R Nott"

In a small town just out of reach of any of the best maps sits a little country house, off off off the main road, behind a clump of tall pines. It's a fine white, strong flat paneling outside the porch and up the side to the little room at the very top. The room whose roof is the one thing the sun hits its nose on while going up the hillside. In this room there's one soft small bed, a light faded row of books, a painting of a river, dust on the desk, and two things on the windowsill: a plant, mouth open and ready to catch the dripping blood of the sun as it floats and races by, and a crystal. A crystal that looks, when held up to light, or held in the tightest dark, like a whole mountain of glass. With base camps and tree lines and snow caps and sweeping rock faces with little foot trails and caves and drifts and clouds. And it's cursed. Don't touch it.

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