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“The popularity of soothsayers and clairvoyants throughout time, as well as the ecstasy of drugs and the thrill of technological magic, all show our weakness for ‘miracles.’ Well-fed, we want to be entertained.” – Mihail Neamtu

“From the heron flying home at dusk,
from the misty hollows at sunrise,
from the stories told at the row’s end,
they are calling the mind into exile
in the dry circuits of machines.” – Wendell Berry

With Conjurer Keys we hack out a man
In our own image. Gods without the breath
Of life are not living souls. Our hope goes
Up savorless smoke, yet still we practice
Digital magic on Conjurer Keys.
Monolith towers murmur code to cure
Babel with one language strung throughout all
The earth. Metal angels herald the signs
We thumb for our “god out of the machine.”
Love symbols to self, an offering, strange
Fire summons strangest desires, Weird
Sisters and Hecate gyrate; they sing with
Lyrics of black licorice on their teeth
Which clack dark rhymes of the Conjurer Keys.

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