Meditações - sidereal days. i’m the cascading series of geneva wheels

clock of the long now

i come from good stock, customer & scale like a river: binding crisp & square: clear provenance: no opaque functionality. you can patch me with bronze age tools or feedback. take cover, customer: my sulk is as bulky as weather. take five to see bright. take the worthy parts out. if i bring a history, it’s ten millennia & begins with the future: bands playing sleep numbers: mill’s mess orbiting ecuador: customer joy directed towards an exit elsewhere. my father’s job was saluting. his vertical shelf-wear & shadowing from in-flaps to endpapers my annulment. i’m the king who arrived by horse & left with a guitar. the theatre of my increase: taking the least for longer. this the reverie of robots, customer, in the 19th year since wainwright: the nth degree: whizzing your experience. i believe in thor: in lawn ducks: intuitive customer buys: your dark & stormy, customer, served with sugary garnish. i am wound by the sun: by heat thru synthetic sapphire. my pendulum lives in a mountain. my heart: a song machine sorting no two alike to no one listening. each song dedicated to you, my love, my customer. my hobby is the last mile. even with taxes big as texas: big as whiskey: log trucks clearing customer delays: replenishment in moon time: terrestrial time: no time flat. i’m in favor of fulfillment engines. my response to long-term asking is bristlecone pines. i’ve divined tidal drag & crust shift: ice or no ice at the poles: , customer: your rete algorithm. i am one-click & prime. your tomorrow waiting with less wait time. your worship has climbed around me, but i’m your wish list, customer. your wish is my command.

Ken Taylor