Menkindred be kind and within the sun shined
I ate an awful lot of waffles on the seashore
Peering at us daily from the mirror of the moon
We're flipping after one rotation, spinning in continuation
zagging in the other direction to complete another revolution
about the darker focal point before once again returning
to that fat old sun in the sky calling us away on the lazy
laurence of another day half remembered like a dream
whaddaya mean what do I mean?
I think I made it pretty clear, it's best to steer away from
here my dear and while you're at it why don't you buy
another taco from the street vendor down on the corner
a block from the tattoo parlor or maybe have yourself
another beer the message within the earth's magnetic flip
may just coincide with our dark sister's dance.
You once said under the faintly flickering and almost inaudible
hissing of the dull purple neon light emanating from the six
paned lamp shade above the brass claw base situated as tradition
demands before the shut door one wants to bar from passage
candle light filtered through molten glass slowly as our resolve
gathered for the shedding of the skein of worlds.
Our epidermal lineage, the molting of the serpent as it grows
from the egg that is forged of a shell woven of spinning particles
zoomed in on revealing planetoids and asteroids and stellar detritus
weaving a shuttle-cocked shield inter-penetrating shadows
emanating from the interior, lit up across streaks of flash-lightning
reveals an intermittent shining pouring straight out
plutinos and centaurs circle our parent star as a rank
of centurions guarding our very solar perimeter.
The very real celestial birth which awaits us all appears
to our perceptions as death itself. Welcome to the log
Welcome to the cybernetic home of the log.
