when teeth rot out in dreams, when its pandemic to a species, i usually conclude that radiation is at work...dream radiation. or at least, i keep a spare thought at all times focused on rending atoms, colliding them, spilling strange energies out like light from a face. i like to think about glass coffins-- better than a vault for the poetry. i've been thinking about them a great deal lately, increasingly as occult orbits become clear; the rent in the vault of heaven must also tear the great waters of the deep; et tenebrae super faciem abyssi & all that. so when the Pylons & the Bridges of the astral tremble in the slumbering shuffle of the three-eyed giant? well, as above, so below. & hey, i figured out how to successfully create les mysteries with an appropriate bit of twisting. i'd tell you the ingredients, but the walls have ears!