The ďancestral voices prophesying warĒ are troubling. And the voices falling in caverns to a sunless sea. But the pleasure dome with its reveries of giant statues and shrines, bizarre spider and blue horse leave behind. Take pleasure that every single invention of Nature, forest of Fontainebleau and moonlit scene is replaced with floodlit stage and papier-mâché rock. That hydraulic waterfall taffetas paint the flower (À rebours) and orchids of borosilicate glass (Life in the Gardens, 2009). Itís not just art but choice, the measureless nano-lobot fingertips of Ubermensch. A headless frog to mine more body parts and make the man immort. Battery packs for mice, a closed circuited roach, soldiers hear and see like a dog.
Microscope beyond, inject virals to clone the cell. It sounds like fiction but at the Whitney Cave Museum ice will form a bat, cow in monkey, spider in goat, not death in life, another Coler-gram, but flounder in a tomato, breasts growing in jars, rabbits with the heads of jellyfish, GFP mice glow in the dark, lizard earlobes wag and bark. It made the stars jealous, that TurnspielDNA art. Whole assembly lines turned out. Transgenic e. coli souvenirs were taken home as pets. Safeguard the rest. Ridem cowboy! The buckin bronc!
Bird flu and Kiebsiella planticola kill the past, waiting to be revived. Plantosaurus maximus for ingénues at heart. Pyrocanthus for those who love the headless art transplant to empty necks. Liberty invents the frog. Farmed produce, cabbage livers, tomato hearts, brussel sprout eyes on honeydew fed. Napoleonic anopocalyptic porcelain teeth, diamond bones, gelatin eyelid monitors. How does it feel to be the beauty?
A damsel with a dulcimer in this vision saw a bioinjectable 2200 IQ -- Uber Alter Nano Bot, so bye, bye homo sap. Super man is coming from caverns measureless to man, except for two minds drilled in the skull. But again, some do not have heads. Itís the old half remarkable question, what is it that we are part of and what is that we are? Flying hats searched for roosts. Sixty dollars rolled across the floor. They only looked like heads. Biological contact with Sagan, the most transhumanist of all! But then they ate each other. Myth became history, history fact, fact myth. That was the end of Byzantium.
[Forever after at http://eyeshot.net/byzantium.html]
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