empyrean novelties gleam my globes
glare glances off ships I see
out there
the birds are eaten up
by our massive sky-sails, so they
mix their DNA with arrows and stick into the hull
(but only the wooden parts)
we call them seaglass
like that famous guitarist over back
where the sea blows the hairs of hotties
and windmills are the only connection to our sky demons
gods exist up here in our minds, well,
not in our minds,
we're him, he's Us
and god's tellin' Us,
"Look Out for Lightning, Little Playa!"
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