The incantation flowers

Behind the cell wall

Under the auburn full-cloud cover

Behind the blinking lids

Beneath the perfect face of our kitsch

Beneath...

The hot-blooded verse oscillates

From blood and bone scaffolding

Opposite the "I" in team

That Gutenberg's lip

The incantion implodes

And MGM goes bankrupt

For there are no negroes this way

Only banished seminoles

Haitian generals

For thе clean mask of basic minerals

Shamans giving day-laborers deeds to nеighboring moons

Cradled by the eye of Horus

Where the written word cannot exist

Yes

Casting directors are lambasted by broad double-meanings

And they take to the data stream binary

Amidst the guts

And dog-eared re-issues of Mein Kampf

Are the executive lounge

Where every moral is up for review

Unscripted dialogue roars from the sphincters of power brokers

Equating your drinking age with that of the Iron Age

As if, As if...

As if the gold flecks were made in

The embryotic swill

But they are not

It was just you

It was you and I

You and I

Dancing in the hail

Of Modernity's mandate