r. scoped this hive head on a pediment of the building where mister poops every day and i never did see. d. appreciates r.'s fine notice of things of unnoticed.

and then d. was inspired to notice this

funny finger of fate fetish tied with a dry rubber band. it kind of reminds of a hawk glove. it remains sealed with whatever spirit resides within. this is also the place where a fellow was killed recently, and where d. found a lovely silver photograph of a weathered old indian brung home.


spiritus mundi.