A femtosecond rendering of an uncanny head; smiling, like a mischievous
20-year old Ernesto Guevara. Hair vantablack; long at the top, left side, and back — right side barren, ersatz follicles no longer work;
here, a meta-ink embed reads:
a writer takes its pen
to write the words again
that all in love is fair
Eyes as black as his hair, they’ve the sparkle of knowing and unknowing.
A small Soneto de las Estrellas inked below his left earlobe….
Towers fell and up flew
A drone, Herzog ersatz, shot the collapse.
No more blue pulsar impressions.
The staff chilled Hope in their icebox
(The most desired reply).
Instruments probed cold, vast, void;
Crashed and carved unknown pleasures.
We missed the cosmic bus,
Delayed by stale supremacies;
Old rotten tensions gave way
To anemic celebrations
Of bubbly-worthy star gazers…
In Another Time-Slice,
Arecibo collected aural debris —
Never San Salvador; always Guanahani…
We’ll weave neural simulacra,
And dull the pain of conquest.
This encryption is from a non-human source.
Cayeron las torres
& todo es metáfora & lloripari,