reconciliation

amidst_s

A childhood reconfigured, a child who could never be,
with cardboard carts of stones and stamps,
bundled with a string, with wooden wired
contrivances hidden from the world,
and yet the others whispered in his ears.

They told him of a place where wild basalt seas
crashed down upon the shattered mirror beaches,
and sleepless carriages fled the stations of existence.

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the letter

 

It snowed along the night, piled up
to just beneath the window sills,
mostly printouts, black and white,
so we shaped an outdoor dining set
of ink and paper, and took our morning coffee
on the balcony.

Orchilla dearest, you fill my thoughts
with wasted words
that I will not share with you.
And yet for lunch, as a special surprise,
I shall prepare spaghetti macramé al dente.

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homo sapiens beta 10: diversity

entropica-s

Proteus, the Jurassic prototype person, created Proteus II, a luminous version of himself, by reciting his own name. Following the advice of Archie, the archaeopteryx, flesh-and-blood Evita was created when Proteus II recited her name. After an interlude in which questions of Jurassic fashion were resolved, Proteus II claimed that he’d created Proteus in the same way, that he came first, à la chicken and egg, and the Proteus brothers took to arguing. Part one is here

Evita found a sapling
and whipped them both
around their heads.

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homo sapiens beta 7: on the beach

proto_diplodocus_s

The radiative Evita ran off with Adamstown, and Proteus plans to knit himself a striped woolen outfit to win her back. Proteus speaks with lights (which coalesced to form both Evita and Adamstown) and, starting at the beginning of the manufacturing process, he said the word “sheep” over and over before falling asleep. Of limited relevance, when he said “lightbulb,” his companion Archie swallowed the resultant glowing shape.

Proteus was awoken by nocturnal rustles, roars, and yawns,
but not a single bleat.
We must return to the ironsand beach,
he advised his mute and mildly feathered companion,
that is where the creatures shape themselves.*

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homo sapiens beta 6: knitting

night_weave_s

Proteus, the prototype human, speaks with glowing shapes, not sounds. His words created the charming and luminous plasmoid Evita, and unexpectedly, her companion, Adamstown. Now they’ve eloped, and only Proteus and his silent companion, Archie, are left. Archie is an archaeopteryx who enables soliloquies. The scene is the usual Jurassic jungle.

By my words alone, I will generate
the necessities of modern life.

Behold, when I say “lightbulb,”

lightbulb

a lightbulb appears.

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homo sapiens beta 5: the sun

xray_coastline_s

Proteus, the prototype human, was speaking with the radiant Evita when Archie, the archaeopteryx, traced out a semaphoric flight path as a warning. Lulled by the night-lit lumens of his own voice, Proteus ignored the ancient bird and continued with his exposition of the integers.

When solar rays were manifest,
Proteus had an inkling that his feeble wisdom
did not limit the world, and recognized
the twin subversions of his dreams,
ignorance and arrogance,
but the revelation came too late.

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homo sapiens beta 4: intermediate lights

beneath_the_carboniferous_sky_s

Proteus, the Jurassic beta-release human, has met a luminous creature on a headland overlooking the world’s ocean. The being understands his speech, which is glowing shapes rather than sounds. Part One is here.

The stranger introduced herself to Proteus.

I’ve named myself Evita,
and you’re the conduit of my creation.
Not your ribs, but your intangible phrases
that weave the darkness
with their phosphorescent trails.

Between the near and far,
they reconnected, coalesced,
and here I am.

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homo sapiens beta 3: plausible fish

icarus_please_come_home_s

Proteus, the prototype human, lived in Gondwanaland with selected Jurassic creatures. Instead of audible words, glowing shapes emanated from his mouth whenever he tried to talk. Part one is here.

If I could only speak,
engage in conversation
with anyone at all,
I’d be sage and silent.

Archie, the archaeopteryx
that Proteus addressed,
ignored the paper lantern lights
floating from his mouth.

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alícia

the night falls like fish

The wind drops violins, my ducks are misaligned,
and the day that you created is winding up
and winding down.
I’ve spread the margarine of time
across the bread and crossed it out.

I need no answers, Alícia,
to questions no-one asked.
Cakely words by Sara Lee
are baking in the oven
and I don’t know who’s to blame.

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paperback rider C: retrospective

anything_(detail)_s

Millie has defeated the Dark Solarian and the kilowasp, and there is nothing more to say. Part 1 is here.

~/~

From the rooftop, down and down
the silent page we went. I heard
the hisses of an elsewhere night;
shoreward waves derailed
from their sea tracks
to crash against graffitied cliffs;
and a lackadaisical buzzing
that occupied the plaintive gaps
between my thoughts.

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paperback rider B: sheridarp style

is_luminiferous_a_word_s

On the roof of the Dreamwalk Library, a Dark Solarian is draining Librarian Millie’s life force, and a fearsome kilowasp cloud (to the nearest power of ten) is descending. The library employee plans to offer his own life force, if he has any, to save Millie, and no-one cares what the penguins are doing.

In my penultimate moments,
I decided I’d reveal my inner life.

You make me nervous, Millie,
you’re not as librarian as you appear.
You’ve taken me so far from science,
my mind is burning in a consequential fire,
and I’d like a coffee.

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paperback rider A: rooftop face time

remembered_by _the_penguins2_s

The intrepid binary pair, Librarian Millie and the employee who is searching for mythical Sheridarp, have reached the roof of the Dreamwalk Library. Rather than the urban environment they’d expected, their surroundings are desolate, and an unfriendly cloud of wasps is approaching. Part 1 is here.

Imperturbable Millie ignored the fearsome kilowasp.

I’m thinking that your so-called Sheridarp
is just a symbol, merely naming
what your 
soggy heart is seeking.
It stands for what you’ve never found.

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paperback rider 8: sheridarp

An unpaid library employee is describing his journey to Sheridarp to Millie, the librarian. He traveled on a moving railway station, passing stationary carriages resembling everyday buildings. Part 1 is here.

The station stopped at various constructs,
and after an elastic interval to night,
I deboarded, wandering in the dark
until a flight of ancient currawongs
dressed in bells
led me to a hazardous occupation
in this very library.

Millie glanced towards a monitor
where windowed morning light
was streaming on the internet.

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paperback rider 7: practical railways

mind stations

Millie, the librarian, has been listening to an employee’s story about waiting to catch a train to Sheridarp, and has given him a book on the unknowable. It’s late on a Saturday night, early on the day following, and the characters have inexplicably diverged from their raisons d’être, or would have if they existed. Part 1 is here.

I riffled through “The Unknowable,”
pausing here and there to admire Rorschach
snack and coffee stains.

After several repetitions, I observed that
every page was blank, apart from butterflies
and their suggestions.

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paperback rider 6: railway line theory

fear_not_the_waterfowl_s

A library employee has been explaining the theory of transmission lines to Millie, the librarian. Part 1 is here.

Every day was crumpled like a tissue,
starless rooms, vacant eyes,
until I cried out in a supermarket—

Check-out people, heed my warning:
concrete doesn’t show our true reflections,
it hides 
the motors that exhaust the immaterial,
the proton-powered furnaces of darkness,
and don’t trust geese.

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