spires reflect the suns
the pale hand in the shadows
trembles unnoticed
the stars bring him back
still young and warm, he suffers
her cold crone’s embrace
earthlings think us shy
here they are again with lights
that vaporize us
magic regained
in a sterile womb
a minotaur grows
i’m cutting the cheese
a thousand lightyears from earth
my ship smells like home
solitary flea
the forests of the future
stare coldly at him
a phase-shifted probe
finds strangelets in a strange land
ships lift off from mars
icy tendrils hiss
the shaman drops to his knees
by the ancient tomb