I cannot comprehend the thinking of others,
their symbolics and demarcations,
dressed in their effete stigmata,
flowing in Babel’s river
to the sea.
Previously on Blade Walker: the earth is inhabited by extraterrestrials, who are minding the planet after humans failed in their duty of care. Blade Walker (human) and Alícia (alien) are having coffee at one of the Café Économique franchises. The first episode is here.
It was all the usual at the Café:
an earthenware urn of tired umbrellas,
sprouting branches and plastic flowers,
tattered pigeons hoping for a snack;
at the other tables, Saurons sipping bluegas,
the odd Solarian, naturally luminous,
and sentient crustacea on a break
from breaking crockery.
Previously on Blade Walker: the earth is inhabited by extraterrestrials, and humans are an endangered species. Blade Walker (human) and Alícia (alien) have been freed from mind-controlling insects by an electromagnet in Rick’s scrapyard. The previous episode is here.
Alícia was always herself,
and now I was me again as well,
following my path of faux pas.
But I wasn’t a shallow as I used to be,
because I had a secret.
Three irreconcilable pieces.
I’ve spent a lifetime being who I’m not,
yet my stigmata cannot be disguised—
nervous mannerisms, and
a dash of desperation in the eyes.
To be consumed by her freezing flame,
hot as dry ice, an unrenounceable
illiterate desire that drove
my past and drives my future.
All I see, all I hear, all I touch,
all around me is the realm of Jaci.
Previously on Blade Walker: The earth is inhabited by extraterrestrials, and humans are mostly confined to sanctuaries. Blade Walker and Alícia Arrepio were eating mangoes by a river when a sinkhole opened and spread. Here is the first instalment and here, the second instalment.
A buzzing sound rose
from the newly formed crevasse,
and a swarm of giant wasps emerged.
Previously on Blade Walker: Blade Walker and Alícia Arrepio were eating mangoes by a river when a sinkhole opened nearby and a factory disappeared into it.
“When I’m waiting for the bus
at the railway station,
I often wonder what’s hiding
in the ground beneath my feet.
“When I’m walking the dog
with my yo-yo as well.
“Most of the time, actually.”
“You’re human, aren’t you?”
The midday insects buzzed in the gum trees,
and invisible heat refracted distant waterfowl.
With the scenery out of the way,
I approached a stranger seated
at the water’s edge.
“I’ve come to warn you.
The river’s flow is orthogonal
between its shores,
and its cloudy blue is beyond
all that is natural.
The clock in the kitchen ticks
inexorably, until the battery’s flat,
undirected, purposeless in time.
Causality suspends us
at the neck
of our hourglass.
Fragile as a ghost, I drifted
on a moonlit beach
in the Shoal Haven,
oblivious to the obvious.
A message was written in the sand,
cursive, but not by any hand.
The Architecture of the Sea,
a short course on the shore,
taught by a moray eel.
After crossing from Australia with the help of the Von-Bingen reality shifter, Delfina and the protagonist, Pierrot, have arrived in Auckland, the Land of the Great Auks. Meanwhile, the narrator has grown impatient. The previous instalment is here.
While I read the introduction,
a bearded gentleman
with a dodo bird on a leash
“Auckland? I thought we were heading
for the South Island.”
“This reality must be a little different.”
A bearded wildebeest
blocked my way, dressed
in a handwritten billboard:
ApoCalyPse Is NigH
It WiLl Not Be DeNieD
RePenT By NexT TueSdAy
WeDneSdaY At The LaTesT
On nights when distant thunder
tore the canvas clouds,
Efedrina’s thoughts drifted far away.
“I miss the bismuth sun
and the overwritten sky.
The Wheel of Metâdia
is always turning.
The fire lilies drift skyward
to herald the summer,
and soft woolen dreams
become fish, fallen
from the winter sky.”
Previously on Alphabetic Fish: there were no such fish, but the forlorn protagonist made a vow to turn over a new leaf, or any leaf, as long as he overcame his shallowness. The previous episode is here.
Today I will begin my real life,
the life that’s tailor-made for me.
But first off, I’ll check the weather,
innocuous conversation might be on the cards.
We’re swirling leaves carried on the flow,
pebbles skimmed across the waves,
seabirds too ungainly to reach the sky.
We only touch time’s surface,
and never understand its depths.
On Friday, she knocked softly at the door.
She was elderly and frail, and she
held a schoolbook out to me.
I know that we all travel from A to B,
but C and D and fish are
forever in my thoughts.