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.
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 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.
“What is obvious is misconstrued,
true mysteries are left to the noisy unaware
and the subjectivity of the softly subjunctive.”
Should I venture an opinion?
In Efedrina’s study of terrestrials,
I was merely an experimental subject.
I chose simplicity.
“I’m going to the supermarket.
We’re out of cat food.”
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: the protagonist has vowed to renew himself, but has done very little except write his diary. He met an alien called Efedrina at the pharmacy. Part A is here, and Part B is here.
I thought I knew my purpose,
so clear it was:
books were pages I might turn
and never a moment
for artichokes I might deflower,
petal by petal,
dipped in lemon juice and oil.
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.
I hear the wind trains
passing in the night.
In the west, far away,
they’re travelling to the south.
Far away and never stopping.
Click image to view a 50s video excerpt from Ancient Mars II: the Apocalypse.
Lie down beside me
and we’ll gaze at the furthest sky,
where once our dreams were carried aloft
in the updraft, in the flames of our personal fire.
We’ll recall our promises and secrets,
kept and broken, reflections
in a tarnished mirror, bitter lessons
learned too late.