Geometric Allegory

The Children of Kenaz  ____________________________________________  The molds of language formed into shapes,  And the geocentric “to be” said “BE”  And it was.  He is the captain  And he has commanded in the land of history  Every era that is associated  With "has been" and "will be."  The Children of Kenaz formed  A branch of Calebites,  And as a clan  They rendered something as if of thought.  The thought writes the world around us,  And these same thoughts people this little world,  But this has not yet been explained.  The message of reason is already formed and born.  The message and object is recorded  For all who would be concerned.  But brace yourself.  Thunder (like a clap of conversation) will burst,  But they have no choice in that.  They are so asleep…  Completely avoid them.  Before, language was impossible,  So they reached out in social movements  And provided the barest outlines,  But they were simply outlines.  He will resume his natural dignity 

Life was mass-produced;  Vengeance damned by technological progress.  We ushered it in.  The patented shadows  Waited for the Big Bang's retrograde  When all the world's matter  Melted into a single, copyrighted pin-point.  Then, and only then,  Did the clock disconnect .  The son of a gun is the son of The One.  They calculated every moment  And gathered every page  Ever written,  Now scanned  And kept  In an archive  Of information.  When the future archeologists pull you from the grave  You'll be like some mummy in a museum  Taken from his tomb  And put on display.  You will be studied.  You will be analyzed.  The infinite monkeys  Will find a way  To rob your grave  And explore your non-linear waves.  You smell like profit, OK?  Generational slaver¥  Extended beyond the grave.  Here's the thing.  There's a reason you've reached this far:  Connectivity Pulls you In a Circle,  And you're worth something  To them.  The circle  The square  The spirit  The

The Week-End Library Issue of 1930 Legend Follow your NOSE to Pleasure Island or Be your own Beagle in THE WEEK-END PRESERVE  Note: If you lose the scent or catch a cold, follow the numbers instead  1. Montclaire: If life at times seems too binding let Somerset Maugham show you the value OF HUMAN BONDAGE  2. Roslyn: Chris Morley stays here WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS  3. Atlantic Ocean: YOUTH goes to sea with Joseph Conrad  4. Country Life Press: Here H.G. Wells warms up his TIME MACHINE to navigate you through the centuries  5. Helen Keller at home. She will tell you about Mark Twain & herself  6. Uncle Daniel Drew’s own story of HOW TO WORK UP A PANIC! He and Jay Gould & Jubilee Jim Fiske played bears in bulls’ clothing  7. Sleepyhollow: Edna Ferber & OLD MAN MINICK like East 56th Street  8. For a bizarre ½ hour Stephen Benet takes you to Carnegie Hall to see a symphony leader who conducts with his tail & becomes THE KING OF THE CATS  9. Francis Noyes Hart comes from

Today, my only accomplishment is this: I flipped the standard QWERTY keyboard Upside down and typed on it: When I typed the word QWERTY From my flipped keyboard, It read "?><MNB" in all caps and "/.,mnb" in lowercase letters. "A secret code," I thought. "Surely I can't be the first to turn over a standard keyboard And type onto it as I ordinarily would.... Surely someone has done this before I did." Surely someone has seen the  X M(ark)s the * V I typed the words' "secret code" and "hidden message" [as an SOS (lxl) of sorts] All upside down. Here is what the search results yielded: On its own, this isn't much, But here's the thing: My discovery qualifies as a new thought,  And as a first, I gain proper entrance to the Explorers Club Born and consumed, In an internet of things. So it must be accommodated Or buried In its own way.

Aside from the coal miner,   There were other jobs as well. Take "the trapper," for instance. Ever heard of the trapper? If you haven't, I'll give you a brief  introduction.    He's the one who sat in the dark. The trapper, usually a young child, Stayed in the darkness at the swing door; There, he listened for the coal-cart  approaching Along the tracks. Just in that moment, the child bolted upright  And swung the trap door open, And the action itself led way to the name  "trapper." Mostly though, the trapper had nothing to do  but sit alone in cold,  muddy darkness. In the quiet mines, the child waited  countless hours for a signal-sound. Some days, it only happened once or twice. When it came, the trapper would jump to his  feet And open the door wide enough  For the cart to pass through, But once the cart glided past, The trapper returned to his quiet, sightless  world. Darkness is long and stretched out.