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