2010-10-13 - 2:12 p.m.
A praying mantis sits stoic and poised, on a branch for attack.
It's alien five part psychadelic tongues undulate and masticate the spider into nutrition.
It rocks back and forth, the green wings lie dormant. Did you have a song in your head already this morning?
The seer's eyes once brown, now green clean prophecies, undisclosed predictions about orbits and the accurate estimation of all orbits.
The praying mantis is captivated by a glass jar and aluminum foil. Recent and soon to be obsolete carbon constellation have taken gentle pains to fork essential breathing holes through an ad-hoc lid.
The spider, about to be undid, does a freak dance. The dancing that precedes courtship and pineal stimulating incorporation (which sometimes go hand in hand, ey Lady Gaga?)
Oh, softspoken, violent, sage of the underbrush, who licks thy raptorial legs in sunshine, sitting wittingly on foreign shore handlebars waiting for eye contact and a form of sleep and dream that few tried ere they meet your chromatically predictable released eye.
