They call the parasitium a paradise, they
tell us we’re all safe beneath its dome,
but I’ve heard rumors there’s another
land outside—if we can only loose the ties
of our dependency—a place where each
wild star might cast its light.
By day I wander in the markets,
stop before the soap box preacher
who swears that only those without
a heart are truly pure, that they
alone will know a rational salvation
in the world beyond the plastic.
At night I smoke cold menthol
cigarettes and watch as Madam
Moon commands her coterie of
stars to shine, a parade of
frozen stellar beauty through
her bordello deep in space.
From sunrise till the last bell rings,
we’re passion’s smoke made solid,
she told me, and we will never see
beyond our harsh desires.
I wonder, who is right?
artwork
An impression of the Dr Chau Chak Wing Building at the University of Technology Sydney, which was designed by architect Frank Gehry. It looks nothing like this.
This artwork is beautiful. How was it done? Is it yours? And the poem is quite haunting, with a really lonesome feel to it. Love it. Those without a heart are pure. How sad.
Thanks. I do all the artwork for Inconstant Light except the magazine/antho covers. It was done using a computer algorithm I’ve developed as the resident nerd in a group of artists (another project I don’t have enough time for 🙁 ), but Gehry’s building is already fantasy fiction, close enough.
I’ve seen Gehry’s buildings in NY. I love your artwork more.
Great poem Steve.
Ienjoyed this much. Nice mood and setting.
Cheers,
Frank
Thanks Frank. Actually it’s pretty easy to leave the Parasitium, you just have to drive a bit north of Hornsby, or west of Penrith or south of Campbelltown.