I cannot comprehend the thinking of others,
their symbolics and demarcations,
dressed in their effete stigmata,
flowing in Babel’s river
to the sea.
Tag Archives: ComputerArt
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.
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.
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 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.