The Still Buffalo appears asleep, although, inside she stirs.Pentacle: earth,wind,fire,water,Self. The circle connects All.The drip of Buffalo's insanity hits the concrete and wiggles below to the dirt oozing into mud and sieves through Gaia consciousness.The hope which we spread and the vials we tinge are in balance of melancholic stagnancy.Swelling struggles seething bad intentions and the horns are raised gorging the eclipsed moon.Bats swing from pines as if on fishing lines, bobbling freights of rats in cans chewing plastics, and spiders sewn the eyelids of nurses as the Underworld emerges around the Grey Witch at the Erie Basin.

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