a vampire on crypton

crypton_s

Tell me something true and real, she says—I
notice her fangs are
a little blunt—you can tell the cat
your dreams.

~ / ~

I came to planet Crypton years ago,
traveled in a sky-blue pod from Earth,
its vaporous madness left behind.

It looks a lot like Earth itself,
more crystalline than you’d expect
and everyone is strangers.

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compact history

solar_travels

Celestial lights, fusion powered stars,
that was all they wanted,
four dimensions, timely space in a matrix,
yet planetary nuisances appeared in each
galactic spiral, and random strikes
with over-budget meteors
didn’t really help.

Venus and Mars,
hide and seek,
catch and release,
Charon dreamt of riding on a comet,
of fiery petals flaming,
a switch from her elliptic circuit
closer to the sun.

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sutherland shire news

ascending

Sutherland birds
All Sutherland birds are flightless, the local
council recommends
tiny holes in fences for
the poor
creatures to hop
through,
and we are strangers lost
and roaming in a lonely place.

Riders within us direct our dreams,
we who imagine ourselves
untouched by the local weather,
and yet a storm is brewing
by the picture rail in the dining room
where the larks are pecking at the carpet,
and Docinha’s head is hidden inside
a fluffy philosophical cloud.

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deija thoris

the embarrassed planet

The Martian Princess of Glass visits Wollongong, her hometown.

The fans that line the streets wave mirrors and Windex™,
she smiles all blue and chromed,
removes reflective lenses
with flashes sunborne from reflective eyes.

I remember when she was just the Martian
down the street.
How I planned to meet her,
how every day I practiced her name—
Deija, ¤≈ℑξ ϖ¿ in Martian, hard to pronounce.

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autonomous bodies

by the sea

We’re squeezed like toothpaste into wires,
an atmospheric phantom network
bouncing off the sea bed and the sky,
and if we don’t pay the bills:
discontinuities in reality.

They’re deep, best not to fall in.

I remember burning forests in the wind
when the air 
was thick as a roast chicken smoothie,
when nature, lightning and amino acids
made single cells 
in starter packs,
ever changing, revisable.

But now each heart is pizza sliced in four quaternions,
one alone, the other three—
an irresolvable triangle of love.

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humans

whether

You humans are all alike, no time no time,
no time is beautiful, before birth and after life.

My pancakes are shallow thoughts
stacked in the kitchen,
she adds a little honey.

I’m late for work at the hardware store,
mostly robots looking for spare parts.
They’re not like her.

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jacinta’s lovers

Jacinta's Lovers‘Jacinta’s Lovers’ has appeared in the Love Hurts anthology from Meerkat Press,¹ who are “committed to finding and publishing exceptional, irresistible, unforgettable fiction.” So no holding back there. The anthology is available at Amazon.

‘Jacinta’s Lovers’ is science fiction with a sprinkling of fantasy fairy dust, and the broad inspiration for the story was a collection of works by the Australian poet Peter Porter. I’d planned to quote a line from the magical poem ‘An Australian Garden’ which appeared in The Rest on the Flight

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