I cannot comprehend the thinking of others,
their symbolics and demarcations,
dressed in their effete stigmata,
flowing in Babel’s river
to the sea.
Category Archives: poetry
the quiet hours
The rain was running late, still pattering
on the muddy puddles of the city sky,
and the street was smeared with cloud
star-ridden with mercury lamps—
a world as dreary as long-lost
infatuation, as a friend’s anger,
as empty jealousy.
Like a moth attracted
to the flickers of fluorescent lights,
I chose a frayed café where
my dairy-whitened instant coffee
with artificial sweetener
—all its chemical delights—
put me in the writing mood.
Blade Walker’s plan
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.
wind castles
I read a little of “Howe to Writte”
by someone called Blade Walker:
Do not write about yourself,
you might scribble regrettable revelations:
poisonous reflections of venomous memory,
elaborations of fears unfounded,
of solitude without solace.
a goanna, a penguin, and Blade Walker
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.
Blade Walker and the vector mind space
Previously on Blade Walker: the earth is inhabited by extraterrestrials, and humans are an endangered species. Blade Walker (human) and Alícia (alien) have escaped a sinkhole and a swarm of enormous wasps. Now thousands of tiny magnetic insects on their heads are attempting to control them. Here are episodes one, two and three.
The silvery insectile helmet suited Alícia.
“My mind is strong enough to deal with the insects.
Your mind … well, it’s anybody’s guess.
Just try to ignore any foreign desires.”
a sense of sentience
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.
the realm of Jaci
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.
the Blade Walker runs
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.
writing tips
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.”
Alícia nodded.
“You’re human, aren’t you?”
blade walker
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 show must go on
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.
the moray
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.
Delfina and the auk
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
strolled past.
“Auckland? I thought we were heading
for the South Island.”
“This reality must be a little different.”
the wildebeest
A bearded wildebeest
blocked my way, dressed
in a handwritten billboard:
The TheRmoDynaMic
ApoCalyPse Is NigH
It WiLl Not Be DeNieD
RePenT By NexT TueSdAy
WeDneSdaY At The LaTesT
the masks of Ra
After midnight, when my inner voice
is whispering in tongues,
I remember that the poets of new thought
are forever in the future.
I never hear what’s said,
only echoes of what isn’t.
~⊕~