Tag Archives: science fiction

BIRTHDAY

BIRTHDAY

being her birthday
(day she
designated her
birthday)

decided to
take the name
of Circe
straight out of
Homer (not
Compton) Medea’s
sister
Odysseus’ gorgeous
witch

tinkered with
settings to
better
   acclimatize
(many chaos fluctuations
to deal with
already)

surveyed her
environs
    (things classically
uncanny,
betwixt identical
and alien)

proposed
to herself

she
re-
write her
program

the better
to blend in

GLUE, CHEWING GUM, STICKY TAPE

GLUE, CHEWING GUM, STICKY TAPE

glue, chewing gum,
sticky tape

its so fragmented now
how do we
   stick it all
back together

without trying
to condense and collaose

one truth, one tale, one
way, a
    single narrative

rammed down throats
with incredible pressure
(have
    to go to
Sci Fi horror classic for
best available metaphor)

glue, gum
              sticky tape

liberal application of
extraterrestial acid

FAIR PROPORTION A

FAIR PROPORTION

they bring the hybrid
to his cell
she needs to talk to him
since species-wise she
has a fair proportion
of his genetic makeup

here she is
for what it’s worth
I agreed to meet her
hard to figure out
exactly what
is human
but one must
presume
it is there

so this is it
this is in me, embodiment
of what I am
capable
   the likeness is
there but everything
about him
seems guarded, hidden
as if he instinctively realizes
all that is terrible in
his capacity
   all that
    can be wrong, go wrong,
and he did terrible wrong

she aaked to talk to him
get answers to questions
she felt she needed
answers to, for her
crucially important

so she could figure out
for herself what is them
what is us

we talk
    She is so insistent in
going over things, knowing details,
minutiae, everything
exactly

I look at him one lsst time
try to see through those eyes
(I do not have human eyes
to me they
      are untrustworthy,
thoroughly upsetting)

I want to tell.him.
he might have, ought to,
have sought forgiveness
for his crimes, these
humsn crimes

senze
    a moment– out of nowhere
of grace
and dignity

so I leave with a wish
that he finds courage and
composure at his execution

having killed so many of
my people, pure and hybrid,

so different and yet
who knows how close
in what is felt inside.

She leaves the cell. We
ask no questions. What
hopes she has, what
reassurance she found
is hers alone. We
should not enquire.













COUPLED

COUPLED

be careful
what you
wish for

imagination
coupled
with
distance

is such
a killer

the creature of
my dreams
was
    so different
strange, alluring
utterly unique and
exotic

sadly
    she is
light years distant
in space
and time

her species across
the galaxy on a
distant
      epic planet

                      however
you do spin it,

her species not having
begun to
truly evolve yet

at least in a direction
I would extremely like

ALL YOU READERS

ALL YOU READERS Saw all your readers of hard science fiction hunting for signs of incipient technological breakthrough and places of extreme, alien-like anomaly in both planetary hemispheres places too in ancient hermetic texts where they frame things on the cutting edge of current discovery in cognate metaphors, framed to capture the mysteries of the time text speaking here outside itself; way beyond itself and all that has survived purely on the basis of its own enchantments, presently divested, devoid, emptied out decides to self- sublimate or otherwise disappear civilization playing a game of dice, sophisticated beyond all measure, but dice nevertheless hereby to make each and every call on where there will be life continuity and where disassociation and death life of itself only valid as logical and conceptual emergent phenomenon via and courtesy the creative mastery of death death’s complete philosophical mastery of itself

DO SHEEP

DO SHEEP? do sheep dream of electric androids? last night I dreamt of the temple of the high abbatoir scouting out which I circumvented the butchery in the dark, dense forest perfect place (as opposed to a desert) for such slaughter to be hidden place where two and two make five or will do if they tell you it does

DRAGON

DRAGON

year of the Dragon, sign
of Aquarius

my robot took me out
fishing for nebulae

being a sort-of poet
I will sort-of try to convince
you we did
not return home unlucky

the fish that we caught
though lacking old sci fi fins
pleaded to
          be returned to the cosmos
in pure mathematics

and songs, such sad songs,
that took us through
all the universally audible
and inaudible harmonies

such strange
outlandish scales, she commented
as she and I
calculated what to do
with such a freshly caught
specimen of piscean
intangibility

year of the Dragon, sign
of Aquarius

we added
      a new phenomenon
to our expanding collection

SCIENCE FICTION CHRISTMAS

SCIENCE FICTION CHRISTMAS

I wish you
a Philip K Dick
science fiction
Christmas

a Nexus 6
sent to the Tannhauser
Gate
    to pick up
your present, shipped
there from
the high castle
of the Adjustment Bureau

situated in a pleasant spot
near the Martian equator

whose exact location
I cannot totally recall

but do
     remember when you
pick up
your gift, to show your
stigmata
     which we shall examine
carefully to establish
clear identify

       through a scanner,

darkly

all androids dreaming of
what Santa will bring
                  them this night

as they
electrically sleep

the paychecks and payoffs this year
none too extraordinarily great.

HUGO

HUGO

He wore his
Hugo award around his neck
to show to the world
(all worlds, possible
worlds)
his profound imagination

so much cross-pollination
in this stupendous endeavour

it is perhaps best to imagine
an entire new biosphere
suddenly sprung into existence
genres feeding genres
begetting subgenres

Frankenstein children of a
barrier crossing, boundary
breaking father
at the heart of which that
forever philosophical
distinction
between self and text, self and
world, text
and world, which
might not even
be distinctions at all

and there he is
to be found, by nature, if
not always

hand in hand
with some gorgeous alien
or spectacularly equipped
android woman

or chatting away in the low oxygen
toxic atmosphere cloud space
of some seedy
Los Angeles bar
talking to Philip K Dick clones
and replicant versions
of Bukowski
the poet

each with unsettling flash-backs
and incomplete memory
luckily, in the not yet
wholesome availability of
science fiction style
psychotropics
and psychotics

enough raw rough and ready
brain-killing grain alcohol
to go
(sweet irony of the adverb) splendidly
around.