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Shadow, love, don’t zone out just now. It takes
you for ages just to respond. “Knock once

for yes, twice for no.” Heh. This ain’t no ex
raising séance, though what is the essence

of this newfangled magic in this daft
plastic box through which I talk to shadows?

Computer crystals make for a queer Craft.
Here be veils no Art can pierce, I suppose.

Is it why the dead don’t ask for our aid?
our love? our connection? What new gospel

speaks for these new times? What laws still govern
this? My soul for Alt-shift is a daft trade.

It’s the only way to reach your spectral,
sorry ass. That’s a touch wretched to learn.