[Sarah-Jane Crowson]

Text below. I am very unsure about these and at the moment veering towards leaving the found text and placing that at the bottom of each image.

These unreal ancients, from their starry stage
post us ideas through risograph machines.
They sing of throstle-nests, and seas, faint echo-
chambers filled with silk and keys and dreams.

Here’s a hive of sulky wayward bees,
that feast on hot blue stars and hyacinth,
We watch them buzzing through the starry floor
To drizzle honeyed deadlines through our door.

A land as deep as stone that held a well
now holds a whale, fair Subterranea.
She sends her thoughts, of amethyst and loss,
for us to view through salt-tinged vaping clouds.

Here, in the second bathroom, a deity
of hybrids, twilight, fur and embouchures
Ambiguously half-divine they bathe
themselves in dry white wine and muscatel.

Shhh, it's Diaphora, reclusive god
of underwear and immaterial culture.
Within her licit chamber she creates
precise taxonomies for nylon socks.

Meet Simeon, a rakish exquisite,
the god of inept conversationalists.
He sends us tiny snips of winning words
in blurred morse code through moonlit glitterballs.

Druantia, that lost imaginary
deity of hares and damson stones,
We scry your thoughts in weather vanes. Your hedgerow
words run wilder than the eyes of owls.

Lost in the Lucent chambers of the night
above the fossil tombs of trilobites
we leave the gods of flying fish to drift
like moths and dust, space unperturbed by myth.

Tweaks in green. If it gets too confusing then I'll post this in metrical as a separate thread.