Friday, March 27, 2009


Far-sighted, near-sighted,
Slick, strange, and barely arranged—
Cables, connectors, rooted and routed,
Tangles of tails and seers estranged—
They pulse and wrangle, flitting away,
Eying your eyes in some salted sway.
Surging, sordid, and busy to rise,
They snare and tangle,
Those Hypno-Ties.

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