Canto XV . . . aber ich fürchtete mich doch noch
viel mehr vor dem bloßen wunden Kopf ohne Gesicht you'd sip the holy cup that Pan swills like a short pint from Murphy’s Pub in Brookline on Harvard it simply bares fin dee sickle like Indy girls thrown aside as each Quest’s won like Tiger Lily and Wendy and Tink his Mórrigan his Internet Discount his Shadow like Bond girls still in the thrall of martinis emotionless without hope unable to jog themselves free from rocky coasts John Harrison invented their exit wound ticking like Hook’s clock inside the croc the Empire awakened by a gear so when Pan looks at his Shadow he believes he is different from his father because all is reversed and he believes he’s free from statements of service or bills of lading casinos entrance him King George awaits the large chalice waits empty for his ballot ubiquity breeds contretemps heaven has a place for him—hell Pan’s Shadow works everywhere rigmarole defines everyday everyone clouds everyone fusses Wendy binds his heart to her Pan’s Shadow is so huge she stretches from one dining room at 21 to the other table at Maxim’s--poking at her coq au vin --her hair is as long as the Tiber her feet are as large as Sardinia her hands can grasp the Rockies throttle Coors who else would center on supper as a piece a skit a 2000-year-old recipe of bread and wine Fort Collins collapses jets wing to UK academy graduates collect at Galway the Shadow rises from Tara fear of Danu cliffs rugged posing above Atlantic swells one fort at the edge souls weeping there fear of Badb The One who trailed Tiger Lily who slyly speared her while she coveted Trojan armor who snuck upon her This One’s father Admiring his Son’s deviousness this One’s mother Admiring her Son’s lies Him Hiding behind a bush His Steed curtained by Spears sharpened at His Son’s smithee roaring falling off the cliffs hundreds sacrificed to Maeve the Unsated reformist leanings allegations credentials Offer Expires Apr 1 or While Supplies Last! hundreds sacrificed to mail-in-rebates the Shadow offers hope unlike her apologists who vend battles in heaven the Shadow offers peace and a free meal Duna Feadhreagh appearing at dusk faeries mounted on butterflies buzzing the trenches faeries on beetles assaulting the Dublin PO only the desire to sell the illusion keeps the illusion alive only the need to enrapture the believer endures the power to break free from illusion learned at seminary enrolling the unchurched learned at seminary necessity of lies have no fastness until broken upon the wheel of war The One uses Lost Boys to enliven his legions’ fearlessness when Pan looks at his reflection he believes he is different from his father because all is reversed and he believes then dies because the mirror image lies neither the image of our mind nor the face torn from paintings can testify self-portraits drawn backwards as others truly see us not drawn from mirrors but projected the Shadow’s deeds do not mirror ours our crosses hang as banners at war with charity our shadows’ deeds entrenched Spiral Minaret of Samarra evidence exploding around it then finally wounded army fire shot through the temple jagged crystals of salt hide a wave of flavor with a crisp clean saltiness that recedes leaving a floral whisper on the tongue Pan insane Pan brain flavors sweet then bitter Pan hammering at the mirror sd/ “Let me in” grave rose the Shadow pursues Pan on her Toshiba the Shadow pursues Pan on her Toshiba the Shadow pursues Pan on her Toshiba . . . XBOX malloc()/free() implementation is also storing control information inbound and is similar to the Windows 2000/XP heap allocators this wasn't a shock: Bucky sd/ “da Vinci, inventor of the mechanically gyp-proof whore-house” Sit Down Please last orders the net of longitude and latitude ensnaring continents with centuries to live out the carnage Charlie’s Angels donne innominate sacrificed to Maeve the Unsated numberless gods sacrificed to XBOX Pan sacrificed to Windows 2000/XP the Unsated please accept these stickers as a token of our appreciation for your support Culture of Life sacrificed to tokenism The Culture of Life shamanized by Hook the Shadow pursues the One who struck down Tink in His quest for Empire the Shadow’s arrow flies true to his heart and he breathes at last equilibrium the Shadow’s arrow flies again Pan becomes the anti-shaman descrying surprise and perversity and peerlessness soldiering by exhaustion Lost Boys in the Kush by the tick tock of the clock Wendy will sew our shadows on she is our immurata sister hers an empty world she miserable! which way shall she fly?
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Thoughts on Pattern Recognition by William GibsonOneTwo Three Four Five Six
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