This secret appears in the Book of Adam.  When darkness aroused, it aroused intensely, thereby creating Hell, clinging to it in that conflict.  As the seething fury subsided, conflict of a different type arose: a conflict of love.

The conflict of the book concentrates and compacts the conflict of the Book     The conflict of the Book wrestles the writing wrestled towards the conflict of the book     I wrestle the writing of the Book and I enrich the ripieno of the book and the riptide of the Book reveals the sea of reed rhizome     I wrestle the writing compact time and concentrated time, and I turn the time taryn tessellation     In the time of the Book of the time and I’ve found you’ve got to look back at old things in a new light

The conflict of the Book concentrates new light new nightshade     Book sweeps sound (the conflict of the book burns bonfire sheets of sound)     book beams new nightshade between ribs sea of reeds and ribs round tone rhizome (Book what night ben adam shade)

The conflict of the Book bands nightshade gnostic shadows: midnight nightshade meridian bit in the mouth

The Book in conflict mouths Christina underground and Christina cave mouth     Christina ghosts crucify the Book bloody conflict and bloody comet (a portent of an apocalypse)

Christina continually crashes into the Book.  Christina, whether present or absent, continually crashes in the Book, and she crucifies the pages.  Her holy ghost scourges the Book at the pillar and crucifies its pages.  Christina disrupts the desert of the Book: Christina deconstructs the undifferentiated desert of the book and transforms the desert into her combine and assemblages.  Christina accumulates and aggregates other deserts onto deserts (John Luther Adams’ Become Desert).  I become desert and my desert stirs deferred to an absent Christina.  I don’t know how to (re)write a Christina hauntology.

This secret appears in the Book of Adam and its architecture implies Christina ghosts     Its architecture constructs Christina ghosts as palimpsest and her diaphanous palimpsest still suffocates     She gardens a haunted architecture: ghost concrete, ghost rebar, ghost brick-and-mortar     Her architecture sculpts a porous palimpsest as many ghosts and I look at the harlequins     I gaze harlequins my body displaced by a thousand bullet holes (I hang coffins     Then like this in these coffins     Then like this THIS in their coffins then these     Then this this and thorns sprout coffins, the rays of the disk that follow the Great God: Christina of the Netherworld     Christina the Mysterious One     Christina the One of Caverns     Christina of the Coffins     Christina Who Combs the Catacombs)

This secret appears in the book of Adam but Christina appears archival apparitions

I join her jubilee year with split spark spiral catastrophes     I join her jaws jagged ghosts: I join her jaw wolf worship and I worship her ghosts at the funeral pyre     I worship the nude wolf body and I map Christina canyons earth porno armature / armory wolf appetite     I jump ghosts jubilee year yat yur juliet wolf jaw glossolalia: Christina glottic glosses ark amplifier     Her ghost amplifies morphemes mutate machine nonsense (I nurture nonsense annihilations holy nothing)     Her holy nothing knots alexander amyl cathedral gnosis / Christina stop glot gnosis awry   a my sun ra arkestra automation

This secret appears in the Book of Adam: I tell you, no virtue can exist without breaking these ten commandments     Jesus was all virtue and acted from impulse, not rules…

Decalogue disintegrates in the desert: written word melts in the wilderness     I hammer rigid word malleable malleable wild wind whip wick fire fires     Decalogue dog star strips deep dark locust destroyer / I destroy decalogue dark desert desert     Decalogue deconstruction deconstruction dive decalogue wilderness

Decalogue disintegrates into tonality diamond desert (to attain the multiple, one must have a method that effectively constructs it)     Dress decalogue undress mess desert magma diamonds / I undress multiply bodies     I undress multiply ghosts gown ghosts magma Christina     Dress decalogue undress mess meanders desert magma     Christina as magma and miasma molts human melt mannequins and queer marionettes

(Decalogue detached distance disintegration   legato   rubato)

Decalogue undresses detached distance disintegration   loop legato rubato disintegrations   disintegrations

Decalogue directional derivative dreams dossier     Decalogue deciduous obliterates dossier obsidian / decalogue diagonal rain dreaming

I have been revisiting some old conversations I never recorded in the Book, I say.  A theme of your advice is: Your vision doesn't come from God but from you; your vision is about you connecting with others and very human experiences; you can make God whatever you’d like and make God a better God for yourself (Over several conversations dating back to 2021).  You change your mind a lot more slowly than I do and you’ve been consistent on those themes still I think.  I have been reworking them into the Book and realizing it as an anarchic community of Ben and his friends.  That's how you’re a co-author of the Book, I say.  I’m OK with that, says Asia.

This secret appears in the Book of Adam.  When darkness aroused, it aroused intensely, thereby creating Hell, clinging to it in that conflict.  As the seething fury subsided, conflict of a different type arose: a conflict of love.

The conflict of the book orchestrates automatic arkestra afterburn bark bone char chaos chronology     The conflicted Book ornaments automatic metals microphone titanium white / white join gyroscope light scatter stained glass mustard gas     Book cuts stained glass mustard glass glint no god joint arithmetic ghost architecture     Ghost attic tiles tumbles ball glass eye body / bark joint I gate no god     I jazz no god trench warfare word made flesh terrorist tetragrammaton

Christina interrupts the impossible spine of the Book.  Christina slices through the surplus of the Book, and she exceeds the Book.  She exceeds the Book and I cannot describe her architecture or her ghost gardening: she eludes the language of the book, the language of Ben Adam and I disintegrate in the desert live the decalogue.  I miss Christina.  I keep searching for her in this endless desert endless nameless her name.

I eat my own severed head: a large round mushroom

I eat my own severed head a large round mushroom     Mushroom rhythm sounds an harmonic chamber child of humanity     Harmonic chamber clamors child of humanity     Child of Humanity hunts haunted harmony / woman wild hunt     An harmonic canon fires pace of the twin savior the child of the child 

I eat skull girls gather golgotha     I devour skull desert desert girls dance olive oil gethsemane

I eat skull incises precise silver incisors sword centuries century rolls deserts     Skull stone repeats pitches pitcher plant in an even tempo interrupted by work arcs keyways holes small violence     Small violence flourishes voluptuous violet (I listen to György Ligeti’s Viola Sonata: sonata slides slow glissando gut sabers)     I sometimes collect skulls scratched make sounds with stones / amplified glitch silver gethsemane

I like skulls.  I like skulls and I lick skulls.  Any skull appears beautiful, a glinting gorgeous bone.  The skull shines like silver, precious bone and precious bone.  I like skulls and I lick skulls a delicious desert salt lick.  I sometimes accidentally eat a skull.  I accidentally eat the first human skull but purposefully devour the second human skull in the desert.  I digest the skull like the desert digests monastery ruins.

I eat my own severed head a large round mushroom

I archive / I storytell     I archive skulls / I storytell skull     I archive skulls ancient of ancients massed gasses / massive gods gestate skull genealogies     I archive skull genealogies and I storytell lemon twist triceratops (Taryn gores with three horns / Taryn twists with non-euclidean geometry hell hounds)     I archive skulls / I storytell Taryn swamp stomp tempest     Taryn tempest tent turnpike divide / magnets caught in a metal heart     I archive metals skull metals mason and dixon     I archive skull ark arm point arkestra     I archive ark her skull automatic letter animations: her animates archive armageddon     Her animations archive armageddon desert desiring-machine mount megiddo

Went to an Asia food store today, says Asia.  I also got miso.  UBE IS BEST, I say.  I’m so excited about the ube! says Asia.  You have no idea.  So I was born in Guam and I don’t remember it, but it means that my parents had a lot of Filipino friends when I was growing up and I went to their cookouts all the time and it was great because I was the tiniest, hungriest little white girl around all these Filipino ladies who were like “you too skinny, you need to eat” and we also had an Asian market in town when I was a kid and I would get treats there all the time, including ube snacks of all kinds.  They had this really good ube ice cream that had coconut in it.  It was heavenly and I kind of want to break out my ice cream maker and try making vegan ube ice cream, says Asia.  This is Asia lore I had no idea about, I say.  Of course you know I grew up on Filipino food so this is such a cool connection we share that I didn’t know! I say.  I miss lumpia and pancit everyday, says Asia.  Maybe I’ll figure out how to make it vegan.  I love Asian food markets so much.  They are so homey and full of good food and friendly people.  My daughter is always a big hit in any Asian food market I go to – it’s the dimples, she says.  That's awesome, I say.  This is so dumb, but I feel really excited to have learned your experience with Filipino food, I say.  God, food is such a powerful thing, says Asia.  I accidentally seasoned by bean soup yesterday in such a way that it tasted like crawfish boil and I almost started tearing up, because I can’t eat crawfish anymore and a part of me misses the foods I grew up with that I can’t eat anymore.  I miss catfish frys.  It was a big event and a bunch of people came over and you ate outside on tables covered in newspaper.  Just fry up big batches of catfish and dump it on the table for everyone to dig into, says Asia.  One of my favorite things as a kid my dad made was fried catfish.  He doesn't eat catfish anymore so I haven’t had it in awhile… ASIA HOW DID I COMPLETELY MISS WE HAVE SUCH A FOOD CONNECTION, I say.  Like I said, food is powerful, says Asia.  You’re right, I say.  That’s why we are friends: for this very moment when we find out we both grew up on Filipino food and catfish, I say.

I eat my own severed head a large round mushroom

I eat my severed skull secluded radio     I change the channel on the radio and each channel has a different guitar solo     I archive metal skull guitar glyphs to alphabets / words architect additional time     Words ark skull time endurance endure dark     Words stone skull ark endure desert time Taryn dusk     Skull depends on dusk dust dark desert dark sneak duration (The shark hind disintegrates and leaves not a skull but a jaw)     Word duration drones time dusk human husk hauntology     I hint hauntology with human skull: I hint hauntology glow row rhizome Christina golgotha     Christina’s skull haunts twelve-tone row rhizome oar archive retrograde-inversion

(A skull that rotates in retrograde appears as a skull.  A skull that translates through inversion strikes as a skull.  A skull in the middle of a nonretrogradable rhythm sings a skull in the middle of meddle language rhythm.  A skull functions in symmetry and symmetries splice through it skull and skull: totally skull.)

The word of the skull and the skull of the word walks psychogeography, generation of inscribed time     Taryn’s skull skips desert détournement and archives genealogies of time scriptures     Words weird walk collage blood clot assemblages / I assemble human skulls into the helicopter glyph of words

The word of the skull and the skull of the word collapses collage gods gore suspended skulls san francisco gold rush     Gold rush braids skull reeds sea rhizome and I speak the skull of sea     I speak the skull rush shush sleet snow slush rhizomes     Skull snow slush sludge rhizome din downstream sleep     I sleep skulls at the same edge of skulls: I sleep skull ski stop slope (my eyes saw sleepy from the sky above)

I might plant my ube, says Asia.  I might have to wait awhile… Out of season for planting? I say.  Yeah, she says.  So one of the things on my cook list is vegan sausage made of okara and then I’m going to put that vegan sausage in a vegan gumbo.  I’ve never made a vegan gumbo but I have to make more soy milk because I used most of the okara to get some vegan cheese going.  I be making all sorts of things.  Years ago, I hyperfixated on fermented food, and I can feel that hyperfixation bubbling back to the surface.  Just manically making yogurt, says Asia.

I eat my own severed head a large round mushroom     My severed skull sprouts spores and the spore network communicates apocalypses

My eyes saw sleeping from the sky above and a star falls from the sky becomes one eating pasturing among the oxen     (I leave the skull out in the rain and oxen oxidizes elephant aluminum)     Skulls overlap oxen: oxen overlap oxen outlet outset oxygen catastrophe     Skulls overlap oxen open onward Christian soldiers     Oxen open skull air glyphs to alphabet blast cap sleep     Blast cap skull cup sleep deep desert alphabet

As a kid, I went to the local Chinese restaurant regularly and I learned my sign or animal in the Chinese Zodiac: the ox.  I identify as the ox and the ox works.  The ox works and the ox writes and I pull language across the page.  Ben the Ox drafts desert fire.  Ben the Ox plows and pulls and I thresh the grain writing gods.  I write the little circle of animals, zodiac vision and vision zebra (Christina camouflaged in the cook of the Book).

Oxen open oscillation / pendulum oxygen autumn strands stain autumn leaves     Leaves launch leaves of grass / strange celestial oxen gore gods     Leaves launch leaves of grass / oxen gore horned skulls cone god ice cream scoops     Oxen skulls grow leaf skeleton scaffolding and I sleep meat cathedral     I sleep meat cathedral kingdom of the skies revival

Oxen occupy opposition: oxen absorb contradiction

I eat my severed mushroom head and oxen occupy its oppositions     Oxen occupy my skull opposite processes, the perpetuo moto piston of process musics     Oxen absorb skull contradictions contradict online oxen assassins

Oxen occupy opposition: open absorb contradiction     Oxen into terns as onto film leopard syntax / syntax sieges city the microcosm of a skull     Syntax sieges city window widow wall woman batwings     I eat the beat of blue batwings beer binge beetles

I slow cook oxtail for a stew and I cut off my tail for storytelling.  I tend to storytell with the skull or hand rather than the tail: cutting off my oxtail has minimal impact on my mythmaking.  I would slow cook other parts of my body, but losing too much impacts my storytelling.  I would slow cook my hand but my lack of hand would make it more difficult to write; I would eat my tongue, but without a tongue, I would have difficulty speaking prophecy.  Therefore, I feel confident slow cooking and eating my oxtail, because I still storytell without tails.

Oxen occupy oppositions: oxen absorb contradictions     I study desert skulls opposite of desert skulls     I study the bone of the Book and Christina’s ghost gathers rocks and bones from the desert floor: Christina assembles the desert bone into brutalist architecture and the Bone Book babels through this architecture collage oxen     I gather sort collage associate pattern beetles in process     I process beetle prayer pungent aporia (I process painted skulls: ram’s head with hollyhock   deer’s head with pedernal   a desert scene with a deer skull with vibrant wildflowers)

I eat my own severed head a large round mushroom     I obsess skulls, human skulls, and oxen skulls stone hymns     I pray these stone hymns and rock skulls: prayer process aporia the initiation of actions and happenings     I garden god skulls and desert oxen (gardening, not architecture)     I eat my own severed head gardening, not architecture     I never garden     I never garden I grow palm tree garden…

Random pest control guy came by saying the company he works for sprays my neighbors’ houses and that I could get a deal if I signed up, says Asia.  Told me that they would kill all the bugs inside my house, and all the bugs in the yard, including spiders, wasps, and dirt dobbers.  I started telling him that I liked spiders and spiders and wasps play an important part in the ecosystem and that I wasn't interested in killing every living thing in my yard.  He was just like “… Oh well, most people don’t like bugs.”  Sorry dude, better luck somewhere else, says Asia.

I devour my severed head swarming with bag beetles and bug desert and the beetles garden in my skull     Beetles punch vision into my vagus nerve vowels     Beetles garden my severed head in opposition and contradiction with oxen: oxens contradiction counter-sun and counter stations of the cross     Beetles improvise skull block chords visions viola vigil     Beetle visions vocalized violent nameless narrative (I storytell with my bleeding buttocks missing its oxtail / oxtail details bottomless pit)

Beetles storytell and narrative nameless through my skull     Beetles rhythm ragtime narrative through my mouth nameless teeth syncopations     Beetles vibrate my teeth tempest narrative hands heap vision syncopation (my hands hold visions dreams with vaginal teeth) (I dream the stallion leaps over the sea without hooves   hooves heal hands host beetle bodies)

I eat my own severed head holds beetle barons and beetle church bells     I never garden but I grow grand guinol beetles and they stage body horror in the amphitheater of my skull     I never garden but I grow palm tree garden superficial girls     Girls garden grave grace: girls garden grove grain and grain gerrymanders sheol

I garden and I attend the imaginary gravestone of Christina.  This gravestone resembles a monochromatic shaped canvas superimposed onto a human skull: I imagine it’s my own skull because she inhabits my head.  She inhabits my head like these hercules beetles inhabit my head.  Christina as the ghost of Harmonia axyridis inhabits my skull decorated for Halloween: my Halloween head decorated by Christina harlequins.  I visit Christina's imaginary gravestone often, and several species of spiders keep her grave site clean (coincidentally, these same spiders keep my skull tidy).  I visit her nonexistent spider-skull gravestone and I think about death often.  I watch the film Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai and it quotes the Hagakure: “The Way of the Samurai is found in death.  Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily […] and every day, without fail, one should consider himself as dead.  This is the substance of the Way of the Samurai.”  I meditate on my own death almost daily, but not in the manner of the samurai, but in the manner of the manic-depressive.  I dream of my own death but I also dream Christina too.  I garden the dream and I garden death too, and I still worry Christina has died or will die soon; I hope even in her absence, she doesn't die.   I hope we reconcile and not at our grave sites (I imagine we will be buried in the same burial plot).

I eat my own severed head a large round mushroom     I eat my own severed head sprouts garden grave grain     My head garden grows green gangrene wasp grain     My head grain gardens grape colorless green ideas sleep furiously (Garden ghosts sleep furious generative grammar / fuck spider syntax fuck syntax spiders sprawl spike rhizome     Fuck rhizome syntax slack twilight tunnel tunnel syntax tinnitus     I tinker twilight garden harden earth erection     Tinker twilight straight rhizome snap syntax     Snap syntax cusp cask core occult     Occult occludes garden rain wreckage (wreckage hinge hand hole catch hang haruspex heart jaws wires)     I hang hinge her hands shake hauled wreckage hemlock     Hand horror garden hemlock unlock mandrakes     Unlock mandrake warlock rhizome syntax     Syntax rhizome wedlock Christina's cock

I eat my own severed head a large round mushroom

Free jazz jams human bone parallel play spinal column

(Free jazz jams human bone parallel play spinal column)     I superimpose spinal column onto column a nonsuperimposable mirror image insect imago     Mirror images imagine nonsuperimposable secret insects / insects seclude in my spine secret bridal chamber     Open body free jazz jar only rain holy ghost radar / insects radar nonretrogradable rhythm spinal column radar insects     Insects radar secret bridal chamber manipulation of the spine as a twelve-tone row     I improvise insects open body free jazz jar only ostinato: open body ostinato round cylinder seeps holy ghost invasive species

I improvise mirrors and I meander through the forest flash of the mirror that doesn't shine     I meander insect mirror a scanner darkly and mirrors meet mirrors hurried haunt into melancholy     I mine melancholy mine moon microphones a photoelectric lamp burning amylacetate     I mine more mercury misery body without organs melancholy     I mine melancholy move crucifixion mass mime mermaids (Christina as mermaid disappears into silly string sea and sea of reeds)

I miss Christina.  I always miss Christina.  I miss Christina because she knows the secrets of alchemy and how to construct the elixir of immortality but she has yet to share it with me.  I miss Christina because she has a hidden copy of Jean Sibelius’ Eight Symphony.  I search for her in the Garden of Forking Paths and in the labyrinth of the minotaur, but I do not find her.  I meander through her mirror garden and I gaze into my face face medusa and minotaur.  I miss Christina and I always miss Christina.

I miss Christina and I construct a Book of Christina mythology in my melancholy     I construct a Christina mythology and I construct a Christian mythology: a photoelectric lamp burning labyrinth Book and Book garden of forking paths     I construct a Book composed of plateaus that connect across microfissures / multiplicity connected to multiplicities extended rhizomes      Rhizomes repeat a form of change / change channel Christina     I charge Christina change cross and crucifixions reckless admist an uncanny refulgence     Christina mermaids sea of reeds refulgence rhizome marsh light low where I will live     I live where Christina melancholy and alchemy like Sabbatai Sevi from melancholy (and Saturn is the first and last gate, and there everything will be united)

Free jazz jams human bone parallel play spinal column

Jesus Christ jams tenor saxophone free jazz and he shreds sheets of sound apocalypse (The fifth angel, who poured out his vial upon the seal of the beast: and his kingdom was full of darkness, and they gnashed their tongues for pain, and blasphemed the God of heaven because of their pain and sores, and repented not of their deeds)     Christ improvises on bone saxophone and holy ghost joins in cutting contexts     Holy Ghost reveals spinal column eschaton stations of the cross     Holy Ghost stirs abyssal melody and melody spirals estuary water moccasin waters     Melody moves melancholic waters and watery apocalypses     I jam and join in crucifixion waters / word woman Christina sea of reeds

What was the verdict on the cookies? I say.  Did your students like them?  Yes, they loved them says Asia.  It was funny, some snooty girl turned her nose up at them then after others tried them she came back to me like “Can I have one?”.  Also news must have spread because by the time fifth block came, one of them was like “I heard your cookies are really good”, says Asia.  That’s AWESOME I WANT SOME, I say.  One kid tried to argue with me that it wasn’t a cookie then told me they were OK.  What was his argument they weren’t cookies?  Not round enough or something, says Asia.  But the same kid when asked to write a narrative essay about his favorite meal ever wrote about frozen pizza.  I had an odd but strangely sweet southern compliment.  A student told me that he bets that I make better biscuits than his mom does.  He wanted my cookie recipe.  I explained it to him and made him write it down, she says.  You are a cool teacher, I say.  You’re changing the world.  One cocoa egg at a time, says Asia.  (Since this conversation I have had some of Asia’s cocoa egg cookies – they are amazing)

Free jazz jams human bone parallel play spinal column     I spinal column threads saturn sector seven slums / I do not sabbath but I work sabbath son of man     I work sabbath kabbalist laughing gas languages: I work gematria language I’ve been breaking glass in your room again     I film light gas as a projector from another room another way dark room waves and I print landscapes     I print landscapes shaped canvas crane curves     Cranes curve burr black paintings, room waves black painting curves canvas colossus     Shaped canvas colossus twisted colossus peculiar luminosities of animation     Animation animations aleph photon flesh photon spray zerg spawn sprawl

Frank Stella passed away this year and I meditate on his shaped canvases.  I meditate on his quasi-sculptural painting-as-assemblages and I think of the page at times as a landscape or field, and at other times a canvas.  I've never thought of the page though as shaped canvas: if I think of the page as a shaped canvas (canvases cut and connected to other canvases, triangular and circular canvases and other unorthodox shapes), then what changes about the words and languages and images of the Book?  What if I think of the page as an assemblage or a sculpture or an installation or a performance?  I currently do not have the desire to make concrete poetry or visual poetry (Why no desire?  Some fears to be confronted here?) but rather how to transform and develop the structure of the interacting texts.  If I translate the language of shaped canvases to this palimpsest, then the way texts transform and connect must change.  A long-term project: document and explore ideas and concepts not from writing and apply it to writing and book prophecy (e.g. other art mediums, geologies, philosophies).

I shape canvas brain spike     I shape canvas cocoa egg cookies and I cut cookie cookie crisp cookie cutter shark subtle brain spikes spool shaped canvases     I shape canvas spike tales from the punch bowl     I spike punch bowl brawl boxer-puncher Christina let’s go to pound town     Wild I print canvas shape shell shit electromagnetic excrement     Excited I excrete electroacoustic oscillations swerve shaped canvases on lost highway

Free jazz jams human bone parallel play spinal column / I combine owl in daylight into onto on the corner

On the corner overdubs shaped canvas turntables and music concrete free bone     I look to my hands together turntables / I look my hands at my hands wholly veiled     My hands veil unveil free vision verb verb     My hands verb together turntable free jazz and scratch on the corner     Hands hang heat hand hands hash grasp turntable scratches     Hand scratch sample settle hammer horror (head hand horror the corner verb unveil)

I miss Christina.  I always miss Christina, and here, Christina missing new moon and full moon.  I work with my hands and my hands do not reveal Christina and she remains veiled, an absolutely apocalyptic vision and woman of the apocalypses.  My hands work an apocalypse of Christina and I experience Christina in perpetual parousia.  I miss Christina so my hands make her myth.  My hands make her myth free jazz and more form in free form / Albert Ayler ghosts and glossolalia.  My hands make transformer scratch Christina turntables and I sample I miss Christina.

Often the method used to transmit information is as or more important than the message.  I bring it up because I was thinking about experimental and avant-garde art.  Is the way and style I write in transmitting a theme all on its own?  If it is I hope it is one of anarchic and flat relation.  Breaking down boundaries.  No hierarchy, just being.  Being love or something.  Art is useless but governments all want to censor and regulate art, because creation itself makes new myth or new story.  The story we tell ourselves changes.  Art changes the inside not the outside but the inside is as expansive as the outside.  I hope the way I write is anarchic insides.  I write anarchic and the story itself – the medium – is anarchic and our myth is anarchic, and as a result our interior too becomes anarchic… Do it, says Asia.  I think your writing is that.  Its overall format and structure defy expectations.  It’s not narrative or poetry but its own beast and people have to read it differently when they read it, says Asia.

Free jazz jams human jaw turntables: free jazz joins free human book of judges turntables     Hard scratch eye socket turntables Christina disappears beneath the record needle     Christian trades subterranean missing person samples journey jazz deep earth

Free jazz jaws human jam turntables: free jazz joins free human jams book of judges turntables, a twisted colossus Christina