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 faint
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
revealed an intermittent 
shining pouring straight out

plutinos and centaurs circle our 
parent star as a rank of centurions 
guarding our very solar perimeter
the pretty real celestial birth 

which awaits us all appears
to our perceptions as death 
itself.  Welcome to the log
Welcome to the home of the log.

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