The most merciful thing in the world is man's inability to correlate all of his mind's contents,
but the sciences one day
Some say it is already upon us will eventually open
up such terrifying vistas of reality
It will either go mad from the revelation
or flee into blissful sleep
Peace and safety of another
new dark age. I'm
Mark
Edward
Smith
These words are
H .P.
Lovecraft's.
We give you the horror in clay
Yeah, I'm just working on this head at the moment,
I need to put more scales on the body
as well and tend to flow a bit more with the
body, get a few more curves in there,
lies next to and above its
Cornwall.
Its slight accent into
C .C.
Sheffield
Cornwall.
The professor knows the youth is completely ignorant of pagan,
cryptoch, or biblical law.
He ponders and reflects
over the sculpture.
Professor phones sculpture,
who says,
As I said, it was a dream of
dark dripping stone,
of a fractured voice whose
vowels were impenetrable.
I was not stoned,
Professor, honestly.
My grant has run out,
but the only two vowels or sounds
frequently repeated that I
could make out were...
Pffft!
He's a lot.
He brings out a key given to him by his
on -call executor.
Contents are clay -baths relieved,
with bits of fever jotted and strewn around
inside the packing.
The bas -relief is rectangle,
6 inches by 5 inches, 1 inch thick.
The periglyphics, neither ancient nor modern,
sort of comal slash modern art.
On top is a creature,
as if just made.
Description, cross between octopus,
human, dragon.
Huffbeam, tentacles, head, scaly body,
half -grown wings.
Behind this is a small 2x4 vista, ionic column,
attached to a large sheet of paper with large felt pen writing saying
Kithaloo,
Kitholoo,
Kithooloo called.
Martin reads the two columns.
1.
Dream and
Dream, work of
H.
A.
Wilcox.
No relation to
Toyah.
7.
Newburgh,
Urry,
Urry,
Urry
Street.
Pen zance.
The professor phones
the sculptor who says
As I said, it was a dream of dark dripping stone,
of a fractured voice whose vowels are impenetrable.
Mental illness group
Folly, see in sight.
Bearing a
Penzance
Bay
Gazette heading dated 1969.
Comfortable leafy suburb, green lilac,
German type houses, a lot of dark green,
ominous, pale thin youth.
Pretentious walks up, hesitatingly,
to the front of a house with a package.
It looks like a cross between
so -and -so and the singer out of awe.
He is nervous and affected.
A balding
Mike
Hiltag comes to the door.
He is a professor,
Martin's great -uncle.
Trump recognises him.
The son of a respected family knows him.
And he'd been in
Scotland all over.
Youth
Hands
Prop
Package.
It is plain vast relief,
but not before saying,
I made this last night in a dream of cities,
new and old, dreams older than the
Gaelic
Sea or the
Old
Atlantic,
or the garden -girdled
Babylon that lies next to
and above its
Cornwall.
Its slight accent into
CC
Sheffield
Cornwall.
The professor knows the youth is completely ignorant of pagan,
cryptic or biblical law.
He ponders and reflects over the
sculpture.
Professor phones
Sculpture, who says,
As I said, it was a dream of dark dripping stone,
of a fractured voice whose vowels were impenetrable.
I was not stoned,
Professor, honestly.
My grant has run out, but the only two vowels or sounds
frequently repeated that I could make out were
that's
very present.
David one nine six nine
six, nine, one, nine, six,
nine, one, nine, six, nine.
Bye.
Mark E. Smith 
