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Flesh Circuit


Shipping week of 28 November

Latest from Working Man Lay Down

hollow hills
by flesh circuit


A: Ragnarock 
The derelict facilities of the old mine were scattered up the side of the mountain along path overgrown with privet and kudzu vines. The strong cool gusts of wind pushed against the structures and the empty trees crunched their branches together and whined. He picks his way through the totems of knotted pipe and wire, passing under the abandoned refinery cracking towers. The ground was held together by clumps of moss and lichen sporadically dotting the landscape below. The looming spires of the old mine poked into the early evening sky, separated by a descending sun and clouds, stacked ontop of the horizon. He looks down at the soft earth bedizened with wild flowers, their whispered smeary music floating and glowing in the breeze. He walks passed the rusted out pot metal of the storage tanks and the code painted conduit, snaking through webs of mangled scaffolding. Great pulsing chemical fires to the north turn the sky a weird orange hue, stippled with red and purple spots. The clouds transmuted into flowing mare’s tails as he approached the opening. The sinewy silver hills turn into blazing arcs of jutting hot blue ocean behind him. A chrysanthemum-like bloom of evil joy emerges in the center and the draws the atmosphere towards it, sucking. 

B: Kymulga Cavern
Conjuring the slow boil of deliberation through coordinated focus rings, he visualizes the networks of veins pumping sap. The routes of roots breathing blood. The machinery whirs around him like little wings flapping against a brutal seaborne wind. The wild dog star sinks in the cosmos and the fermented air from the cave stings his eyes. He concentrates on the kinetic tone images of the alien-god-parasite configuration and begins to feel the impulse/decay process in his spine. He thinks of the sunlight swimming down the sides of the cave, the waterfalls floating in the canopies above. The light dripping out of the internal star. He remembers walking around the empty lake, where nothing had ever submerged, and the deep interior palaces enclosed in a jungle of mycelial penumbra.  

milton ragsdale- guitar
rodger stella- theremin, synthesizer, bass
mixed and edited by milton ragsdale
birmingham, AL 2022
cover art by d.d.
inner art/layout/design by tg

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