A bench there seated in the sky,
Has ripples over volumed clouds,
Entrance its prettied feet.

It is the near middle day,
And all the busted streams
Make burning shimmers to the cawing gulls.

To sit upon the clouds would like a dream,
Make blurry eyes at all the beauty of
Such deep and perfect mirrors but it is
too far from shore.

Rudiments and polyrhythms,
Proceeding from my mind,
From mind to mouth, from mouth to hand,
Ever ringing out into the air,
Muffled taps become new cries as they -
Do learn to walk and slowly march,
Breaking rank in novelty of unfamiliar ways.

Building blocks to heights above,
I write these laws on silicon slips,
Designed before and tweaked just right-
BUZZ~

Oh is that a fly I hear,
Come to dance about amidst my blocks,
To streak all over private towers,
O come to dance you secret bug.

Then terror turned to vex,
Hive on hive on hill on burrow!
THESE CRAWLING THINGS THAT FILL THE WORLD WITH NOISE,
BEGONE!

Alas, I careless dropped the eggs,
Down deep into my cement,
And now the towers hum,
Come debugger and the printing press,

We shall cast these out and polish jank until it sparkles.

Darkest shadow drenches the land in its silky robes,
And the sound of death fills the air,
Empty echoes haunt the name of sound itself.

Stale air crusts over the fresh embers of day,
And the violence reaps its weighty silence,
The shifting tides of dust seem to shudder imperceptibly,
But still the deep night doesn't shroud the thirst for life.