Science fiction is one of those few genres of fiction that is enjoyable even when it is bad. 1950s B-movies and their 1990s successors, camp melodramas such as Lost in Space, and much "Golden Age" pulp fiction hardly represent the heights of the genre, yet they remain amongst its most popular archetypes. What is it about bad SF they we enjoy so much? The fact that it can be laughed at - especially when it is not supposed to be funny - is obviously an important factor.
But even when it isn't funny - and mainstream audiences aren't interested - SF fans still seem to watch and read bad science fiction compulsively. This realisation has led me to another important reason why bad SF is popular among fans; it's a barometer of how serious they are about their interest in the genre. Anyone can enjoy good SF, but it takes a true fan to enjoy something that's really abominable!
None of which, I can confidently say, applies to this issue of Ibn Qirtaiba. Again, we only have room for three articles this month; Fred Noweck's ever-popular Sci-Fi Corner, yet another excellent poem by W Gregory Stewart (first published in STAR*LINE, the Journal of The Science Fiction Poetry Association) and a debut short story Europa's First Dawn by K A Schure. We also include artwork from Lee Gaskins, with a composition featuring academy award winning effects wizard Douglas Trumbull.
If you would like your own fiction, non-fiction or artwork published in Ibn Qirtaiba, you have only to submit it to the editorial address.
Short story: Europa's
First Dawn by K A Schure
I glided through the thick, murky waters of the low reef. The stones had long been smoothed by the buffeting currents, but now slowed and stagnated as the currents rushed toward the colder regions where my colonin could not go. Our sensitive skin could not tolerate the icy water. It was a place of intense vibrations. Huge plates of rocks shifts and sea beds crumbled to jut as mountains and deep canyons. Nor could we ascend to the huge wall of ice; it formed an irregular dome, filled with cracks and bumpy icicles. My colonin and I could sense this, not from touching it with our delicate tentacles and tails, but by high-pitched chirps which would return to us with an echo. With these chirps, we could feel everything and know all that was coming. For this reason we knew we must leave our beloved reef, for ChiZeks were rushing toward us from the north.
ChiZeks were always savage predators. They shed a row of teeth a year, only to jut forth two new rows, longer and sharper than the row lost. ChiZeks bristled with poisonous spines and webbed claws. Its six eyes scanned every direction. It never slept, but dozed, floating with the current, its spines instinctively undulating over the swirling weeds. Luckily I could always hear when a ChiZek was approaching. Its fierce, double heartbeat and the chilling rattle of poison-spines always gave it away. Whenever I heard either of these, I would dive through the swaying weeds and hide in the basin of the smooth lava labyrinth. Most ChiZeks happened to be very stupid, for they never smelled me, though its pungent stench overwhelmed my senses.
Now, in the far distance, at least twenty-six sea-circles, I could hear the ChiZeks migrating in mass from the frozen ice regions to our warm, weed-waters, searching for food. I knew they weren't close enough to harm me, or any of my colonin, but I listened so closely, it felt as though my ears might bleed from the strain. Nervously, I bit into a tough, fibrous stalk and ground in my small, rounded rows of teeth. A lethargic Bukae, a dome-shelled, slow moving sea-bed dweller, stirred up a cloud of sand. I didn't mind the Bukaes. They fed peaceably on small, scrub-plants and never bothered us.
A smooth, tiny body nudged my side.
"Little Netu! Why are you here? Why aren't you with the colonin?"
"Always worrying about me, Qizi! Can't I eat on my own too?"
Netu brushed the half-chewed stalk with her small pointed nose.
"Why are you eating this," cried Netu. "We slurp out the flowerets hiding in the stalks. We don't eat the stalks, do we?"
"I'm nervous, so I'm chewing." I snapped up a fresh stalk and gnawed on it viciously. "Netu, go back to the colonin. It's safer there."
"No! Please! I don't like being in the colonin. The other hatchlings are so stupid!"
"Go back to the colonin."
"But mamma!"
"Don't call me mamma. You know only tiny hatchlings use that. Besides, you are being cared for by the maternas."
"But you're my mamma, not the maternas! They're old, scaly and always sliming their tongues all over me."
"That's because they love you. There are trying to be affectionate!"
Little Netu rubbed her spindly tentacle hard against the left side of her pointed nose.
"They did it this morning too!"
"Please, get back to the colonin. We'll be leaving soon."
"What? ChiZeks? Are they close? Can I see one? Will they rip any heads off?"
"They're close, but no heads are going to get ripped off. Get going!"
I nudged Netu and she reluctantly glided on the stream and vanished into the swirling weeds where the colonin lived. I loved Netu. She was one of the few hatchling who had survived.
I lifted my head, but there was no need to. I could hear the approaching ChiZeks easily in the still water. Their vicious heartbeat and sharp clattering spines grew louder until my tentacles curled in fear. I ripped off another stalk and chewed until the bitter juice flowed plentifully around my head.
They cannot be more than twenty-two sea-circles away now, I thought. In two sleep cycles they will be here.
I spat out the loathsome stalk and spread my tail into a full fan. With one swift beat and my four tentacles flattened against my side, I plunged quickly into the heart of the weeds.
The whole colonin floated, waiting for the command of the Head- Materna. She refused to leave, however, until all the young hatchlings were swimming in a straight line.
"Not until there in a perfect line can we leave," the Head-Materna grumbled, flicking her tentacles in impatience."The little hatchling will scatter before we're half-way there. Then we'll have to waste our time looking all over for them."
"We promised to keep them together," I cried."Can't we just go? The ChiZeks are fast approaching. I heard them the whole sleep-cycle!"
"They must be in a -"
"What does it matter if they're all together?"
"Quiet! Or I'll order the colonin to leave you and all your precious hatchling, Qizi!"
I lowered my head and slowly curled my tentacles in submission.
"Good. Now straighten the line more - more. That's good. Keep it there."
The Head-Materna swam in a broad circle around the excited hatchlings. Many of them waved their tentacles wildly, though we taught them it wasn't polite. The Head-Materna merely flattened her long tail menacingly and the hatchlings straightened their tentacles against their sides. Netu was in middle of the line. She was larger than most of the hatchlings, but then again, she was older. In fifty-seven sleep-wake cycles, she would be an adult. Then she would have to travel across the deep water valley murky with the fuming cone formations. These stone cones spouted heat and acrid-tasting water into the swirling current.
"Good," cried the Head-Materna,"Now we shall go."
I took my position to the rear-left of the central hatchling line. I watched as all the young mothers and elderly maternas formed and an impenetrable circle. The Head-Materna led the way at the center. We obediently followed her without the slightest deviation. The Head-Materna had always led us to the safest ground and even though I new the age-old route as well as any of the maternas, I was content to keep my position and watch little Netu flail her small, flat tail with an air of independence, although she almost fell out of line many times.
"Netu, keep in line. You know what the Head-Materna said!"
"But the Head-Maternas is a -"
"Shhh! Netu - back in line."
Netu obeyed.
The maternas muttered scornfully:
"She should not be calling you `mamma' at her age. Very childish. We are her true mothers."
The lava labyrinth crept along the seabed for twenty-eight sea-circles. It was one of the largest stone labyrinths we knew and better yet, it flourished with thick weeds and edible stalk-flowerets. The small cracks in some of the labyrinth gushed heat and minerals which the plants thrived on. We followed this long winding labyrinth until we reached its end and then dove into its deepest crevices to sleep. While the others slid a thin, opaque film over their eyes, I broke the Head-Materna's strict code and snuck into the hatchling line to visit Netu.
Netu raised her head groggily.
"Mamma, do I have to sleep with the other hatchlings? Aren't I old enough yet?"
"You'll be old enough when you stop calling me, mamma. But yes, you are getting to be a bit too big to be with the hatchlings."
"It's so tight in here, but the others fit fine. Can I sleep with you and the other adults? The hatchlings always steal my space."
"But that means you'd also have to be by the maternas."
"I don't care. I'm so sick of being here."
"All right. Let's go then."
Netu eagerly darted out of her tiny space and curled her tentacles around me so she could get a free ride. I then nestled Netu into the safest spot first and then snuggled beside her.
"Mamma, when will I see a ChiZek?"
"Hopefully never. Your brothers and sisters were killed by a ChiZek. It was lucky you weren't."
"I was eating with you, I remember."
"That's right. And the others were with a materna. She was killed too."
"ChiZeks are really evil, aren't they?"
"Very, very evil."
"But what about Bukae? Aren't they evil?"
"They just eat plants and sleep. They can't harm you."
"Then why was a Bukae looking at me so funny?"
"A Bukae? Where? I didn't see one."
"Silly! A Bukae was hiding in the weeds!"
"But Bukaes don't like the weeds. They only like the ocean bed."
"I swear, I saw a -"
"Where was it? Show me."
Netu hovered low over the labyrinth and wound carefully through the weeds. She stopped suddenly and pointed with her tentacle.
"There's the Bukae. It's been eating animals too!"
"What?"
I squeaked out a high pitch cry which returned quickly to me, revealing a thick bed of weeds. At the center was a small, flat boulder in which the round-shelled Bukae rested. I was certain, however, this Bukae was a strange mutation (as I had sometimes found among the Bukaes). It had the typical domed, smooth shell, but it had a pronounced, pointed nose and stiffer fins. It also had the strangest mouth, a long, tentacle-like appendage in which it would suck up its food in a gulp. And as Netu said, the Bukae wasn't eating plants, but animals.
"Keep away from it, Netu. It might want eat us too."
Netu darted swiftly away from the tentacle appendage which continued to forage among the weeds. A skittering "sand-spike" was suddenly caught under its deadly suction. It vanished completely, with only a slight stir in the sand.
"Mamma, I thought no creature eats sand-spikes! Not even the ChiZeks!"
"That's right. They're too sharp. How could a Bukae eat it? They're soft on the inside."
"This Bukae might have internal armor."
"Don't be foolish, Netu. No creature has `internal armor.'"
I wound my tentacle around Netu and rushed back into the labyrinth. The Head-Materna was sleeping peacefully in her angular nook. I felt bad waking her, but nudged her anyway. An animal-eating Bukae!
"Head-Materna! Wake up! Please!"
The second eye-lid, opaque and glassy rolled back. The Head-Materna looked at me, then Netu, before she brushed Netu away out of my grasp with her tail.
"How many times, Netu, have I told you I'm your mother? Don't go -"
"Head-Materna! The Bukae ate a sand-spike," cried Netu.
"What? Impossible! No Bukae can even eat a tube-worm!"
"But it did, I swear!"
The Head-Materna glared at me.
"Are you teaching your young hatchling to lie," demanded the Head-Materna.
"Look! The Bukae is eating sand-spikes, just as Netu said!"
"Nonsense! Maternas! Awake! We have Qizi and Netu to deal with... Troublesome pair."
The maternas slowly awoke and wriggled out of their tight stone nook. Two maternas remained to watching over the sleeping hatchlings, nestled at the center of the lava-labyrinth. I watched as the maternas groggily swam our way. From the they thrashing of their tails and the curling their tentacles, I could tell they were angry. I shot out a brief, high-pitched cry which returned to me swiftly, revealing nothing but swaying weeds. The Bukae either had left or was above the weeds. I knew the Bukae was dangerous and must be found. Surely the maternas would not follow me. I was not as important as the hatchlings and nowhere close in rank to the Head-Materna. I felt Netu swimming nervously beside me and on a sudden impulse, I curled my tentacle tightly around one of hers and shot up and over the tall weeds. Netu was so unprepared, she hung like a heavy stone while I dragged her into the clear water. I shrieked a louder, longer cry and when it returned to me, I could locate the Bukae. It had not moved far, merely one and a half sea-circles from its original position. At least it was moving slowly, like all the other Bukaes.
"Stop her! The hatchling! Bring the hatchling back!"
The Head-Materna burst from the weeds, followed by an explosion of infuriated maternas. They swarmed furiously, weaving in and out of their dense cluster, reaching us with incredible speed. Just half a sea-circle short of the dangerous Bukae, the Head-Materna shot out with her long tentacle at Netu. Netu batted it violently with her tail, but the Head-Maternas grabbed a fin and tried to yank her out of my grasp. I tried to hold on, but when I heard her shriek, I let go and watched as the Head-Materna wrapped Netu securely in her four tentacles and swam safely out of my reach.
"Evil Qizi! You would kill your own hatchling? Your only hatchling?"
"Not kill! I wanted to save - to show you the Bukae. It's dangerous. You must see -"
"No! We must punish you first," the Head-Materna cried." For trying to kill your hatchling, we must slash one of your fins. Escape from the ChiZek then! If you survive, you shall live without us - and your hatchling."
Two maternas grabbed me on both sides and entangled me completely. I struggled, but could not loosen their grip even slightly. They both lowered me down to the sea floor and pressed me against a flat, round boulder. A third materna swam toward me with a sharp rock. I shrieked piercingly, hoping to hurt their ears enough that they might let me go, but they didn't even wince. The materna on my left slipped her tentacle away from the base of my fin. The sharpened rock grew closer. I thrashed violently, now trying to dig my teeth into one of their tentacles. I flipped over onto one side and nearly bit into one before the blinding pain and that awful smell of one's own blood.
Pain throbbed, then drained out of my left fin only to be replaced by a vague needle sensation over my skin. For a moment, I thought I had brushed against a venomous plant or creature and I was slowly being poisoned. But instead, it was merely my fin losing sensation from the loss of blood. They did not cut off the fin completely, but severed it half way up. I opened my mouth and blood flooded in. It was nauseating.
"Now let us see this Bukae," cried the Head-Materna.
I sent out a weak, short-distance cry and found they were all swarming near the Bukae in curiosity. I gagged on the blood, then thrashed my tail toward the Head-Materna, hoping to get Netu away.
"Look at this! Harmless, just like any other Bukae."
The Head-Materna prodded its smooth shell with her tail. The Bukae was horribly still. I propelled myself swiftly through the water. The dizziness began to heighten. I kept myself alert by constantly shooting warning signals at the maternas.
"Get away, Qizi! Go! Leave us forever, unless you want us to cut off your fin completely!"
The wound began to burn. The maternas hoarded around the Head-Maternas and beat me with their tails.
"Let me through! The Bukae!"
Something long, but flexible bumped against me. I dropped down in the water while the maternas scattered. I heard a swift rush of water. I wished all my blood might drain away when I heard Netu's shriek. Despairingly, I cried out toward the Bukae, but found it was gone. Instead it was charging toward the lava-labyrinth in a panic. I darted out of its path and fell into one of the labyrinth's narrowest passages. The Bukae raced over the surface, but swerved in the wrong direction. The thickest weeds entangled one of its fins. It tugged furiously before it collapsed onto the stone labyrinth, breaking off the underside of its shell. The cold, smooth shell drifted down toward me and lay heavily on the stone, over my head. Another piece of shell then drifted down and then another. I didn't understand how this could be happening, since it crashed at least half a sea-circle away. A small body passed by me, then stopped to nudged me in its old, affectionate way.
"Netu!"
"Mamma! Look! The Bukae's broke its shell."
"Yes, I know. But what happened to you?"
"The Head-Materna got eaten. I escaped though. I was too fast for it."
"My wonderful, clever little Netu!"
I moved close to curl my tentacle around her, but a sharp pain burned in my fin again. I shied away.
"Does it still hurt," asked Netu.
"Very much."
"Will the ChiZeks be here soon?"
"Yes. I hear them. Their heartbeats and clattering spines are very loud. I'm sure you can hear them - by now."
"Yes, that's why I'm pulling down the shell. It's very easy."
"But what good will that do?"
"If you can't move, then we'll have to stay, right?"
Netu waved her tail, impatient for a response, but when I gave her none, she swam away and returned with another piece of the shell.
"Netu, this is useless. The ChiZeks will be able to smell us. They'll come after - the blood."
"No they won't! If you can't bite through a Bukae shell, they can't get to us."
The two remaining maternas crawled through the lava-labyrinth, staying close to their cluster of hatchlings.
"What, Qizi," one cried."You're hurt?"
"Yes, didn't you hear from the Head-Materna?"
"We did, but we didn't believe it."
"Please, help Netu. Can't you hear them? The ChiZeks will be here by tonight's sleep-cycle."
The maternas bowed their heads in assent and helped Netu rip off the rest of the cracked under-shell. Occasionally the wounded Bukae would sway violently in the water, trying to free itself from the imprisoning weeds. Other times it would unfurl its suction-tentacle, but now it thrashed so uselessly, we were certain it was dying. Many times we might have taken compassion on the poor creature, but the ChiZeks would be here by tonight and we needed its shell for protection.
When the last shell was fitted in place, we secured it in the toughest weeds and floweret-stalks. It formed a crude dome, filled with many cracks and inverted curves, but it was enough to protect one whole sea-circle across the lava-labyrinth. We herded the squirming hatchlings together at the center. The maternas, Netu, and I remained on the outside of the hatchling circle. I continually ordered Netu to take her place among the hatchlings, where it was the safest under the largest span of complete shell, but she always refused. She instead swam around in agitated excitement, eager to see the first ChiZek, and if the dome worked. I was more nervous and afraid. Although the pain from my wounded fin hardly made me value my life, I knew if the shell gave out, the ChiZeks would jam their sharp-toothed mouths into the labyrinth in a frenzy of hunger, driven by my own blood.
It was half way through the sleep-cycle when the first dull thud echoed off the dome. We all awoke and stared at the protective ceiling. Another heavy thud echoed in the silence. I could hear the fierce heartbeats of the ChiZeks and their clattering spines brushing against the shell. As the attack grew fiercer, teeth and claws scratched against the dome. One desperate ChiZek threw all its weight against one shell piece. The shell was dislocated, but it did not crack. The weeds woven around the outer pieces kept it in place well enough. But through the cracks we could see the swarming ChiZeks, mad with hunger and blood. Their mouths gaped, revealing rows of razor teeth and their spines bristled, sharp and deadly. A clawed fin jutted through one crack and swiped; we pressed ourselves flat against the floor. The claw's range swept short of us and eventually slipped away.
The exasperated ChiZeks, near the wake-cycle, scattered in search of new prey. They snapped up anything in sight, larval crawlers, water-beaters, rotating jelly-globules. Even slinking, blind worms wriggling their way beneath the sand's surface. The ChiZeks found their greatest meal when they smashed against the wounded Bukae and the last of its shell gaped wide. A great bubble escaped its inside and long, spindly creatures floated in the water: obviously the last thing the Bukae ate. The ChiZeks snatched these up and in a single bite, crushed and swallowed them.
Three sleep-wake cycles passed since the ChiZeks left, searching for new food. Netu dared to go out and pick up a few more pieces from the shattered Bukae, lying dead on the sea floor. The maternas insisted we leave this place and find the same area we always fed and lived, according to the age-old dictates of the Head-Materna.
"But why do we have to leave," cried Netu,"we have plenty of food here. And we're safe too. So are the hatchlings. We couldn't find a better place."
Netu shifted the strange odds and ends she gathered from the dead Bukae. She picked up a thin, pointed object. I assumed it was the Bukae's tooth.
"Besides," said Netu."Mamma is hurt. She needs to heal first. We can do that by staying here awhile."
Netu waved her fin happily. This was the first time she called me "mamma" without having to worry about the Head-Materna. She floated over to the nearest wall and began to scape the stone with it. The rasping sound was very annoying. The maternas and most of the hatchling shied away from the sound. A few stayed and watched in curiosity, as I did. After sending out a few, low-pitched sounds, I could interpret what Netu was doing. She was carving little figures in the rock.
"See, this is you and this is me," muttered Netu."And this is the Head-Materna and this is the Bukae."
Netu carved into the rock every detail, from our leaving our original feeding ground to here. She carved my flight with her, the Head-Materna capturing her and my wounding. Finally, with the last carving in place, after the ChiZek attack, Netu included one last curious figure I could not understand.
"What is that Netu?"
"Why, that's me, with you and everyone. I'm carving here and this is the dead Bukae nearby."
"But what is that, beneath the Bukae?"
"Why, that's its name," cried Netu."That's where I got the idea to draw. It was stuck right on its side. No Bukae I knew had that on its side before."
I sent out one last signal and when it reflected off the wall and returned to me, the name made no sense. It meant no more to me than the formation of random rocks on the sea floor. It had no sound, no image, no life. All Netu carved beneath the image of the dead Bukae were the jagged marks: NASA.
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I can't believe it! The Postman not only got panned by reviewers but people also stayed away in droves! This from a movie that I was sure would go through the roof! Perhaps the problem is that it came out at the same time as Titanic. Well, on with the review list. This month we have:
Assignment
Eternity is set in the old Star Trek story line about half-way through the TV
series (it's #84 in the Star Trek books). In it, we meet again Gary Seven.
Remember him? He's the genetically engineered, time traveling agent for an alien power
that is interested in advancing human culture. Well, he's baa-ack! This time he goes into
the future and highjacks the Enterprise in order to prevent Spock from being killed
at the Khitomer Conference which is the end of The Undiscovered Country, the fifth
or sixth (I forget which) movie. I can't say anything else about it without giving
everything away, but this book is well worth it. You probably won't find this one on the
used book shelves. Those who read it are going to keep their copies because this one has
the potential to become a classic.
First Contact is
a collection of shorts dealing with (of course) first contact with aliens. For the most
part, the stories are disappointing. Only a very few are well written and of those, I
didn't find any that I would read again. To quote an author that I read recently (not
from this book or even in a Sci-Fi context): "I find your writing both interesting
and well-written. Unfortunately, the interesting parts are not well-written and the
well-written parts are not interesting!"
Leave this one on the shelf.
Rising is the first of a new series with the general title "The Flight
Engineer". It tells the story of a former combat star-pilot who, after losing a hand
in combat, goes back to school and becomes an engineer specializing in (what else?)
fighters. In this first volume, he has been assigned to a new ship that seems to be having
an extraordinary run of bad luck (the previous flight engineer met his end when the engine
he was inspecting from the inside suddenly turned itself on - ugh!). The Captain suspects
sabotage on a grand scale and wants his new engineer to find out who among the crew is
doing it. I figured out who the guilty party was within a couple of chapters, but it was
still a rousing piece of space-opera.
James Doohan (Scotty from Star Trek) is on the cover, so I imagine that he had something to do with the book as well, but I really have no idea what.
Keeper of the King is not strictly science fiction. It's more in the fantasy realm. Those of you who have watched the TV program Forever Knight will recognize Nigel Bennet on the cover as DeLaCriox. He is apparently the person that the main character is patterned after. At the start of the story, he was the mightiest warrior of the age, but beginning to age. He was made into a vampire in order to protect the mightiest king of the age - Arthur, King of Briton. Don't worry about it, it made sense when I read it.
He was known at that time as Lancelot du Lac.
Come forward to present day. He is now in Canada working as a specialist in
anti-terrorism. The vampire who made him needs his help to combat the inevitable change
into a ravening monster without control over her appetites. In order to do this, he must
recover the Holy Grail from its hiding place so that she can drink from it. But he is not
the only one looking for it....
This is a very good read with a suspenseful story line, excellent characterization, and a superb twist at the end. I couldn't wait for it to come out in paperback. I bought it in hardcover. Either way you get it, I highly recommend this one.
Now then, on to letters!
Fred,
I think your list could get very long very quickly if you recommend 10 in each category! Perhaps 1 book each in 10 categories, or just a set of categories and 10 recommended books, saying which categories. Personally, I'd rather you left yourself enough space for the reviews.
Anyway, some categories...
- space opera
- speculative (i.e.: anything which doesn't really fit in other categories)
- fantasy - really there are two kinds: fantasy on other worlds, and fantasy where you are on this world but fantastic things happen
- hard sci fi
- cyberpunk (ugh)
- time travel
- young adult (?)
- parallel worlds
- day after (you know, the holocaust has happened, the survivors are struggling to create a new society in the face of blah blah blah)
- humorous
I can't think of anything else. I've just got into fantasy and I've rather neglected sci fi recently. I must say, there is one thing I don't like about fantasy (apart from the formulaic plots and the way they take themselves so seriously): I really hate the way the ruling priesthood always gets a bad rap! By the way, have you/will you review Dragonclaw by a new Australian fantasy writer, Kate Forsyth? Should I? Let me know! I do enjoy your review section.
Merridith D.
Well, Merri, in those instances, I think my picks would be:
I could probably come up with more, but that is just off the top of my head. Try those and get back to me!
I haven't read Dragonclaw. Apparently it hasn't gotten here yet. So, yes! Review it for me and send the textcopy to me and I'll include it in my next column.
OK, I'm still waiting for some more submissions for my survey. Come on, people! Don't let me die from loneliness here (if you believe in fairies, clap your hands!). Send e-mail to Fred@sf.sig.au.mensa.org or snail-mail to The Sci-Fi Corner, P.O. Box 30245, Savannah,Georgia 31410.
We want to hear from you! See ya next month!
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I Particle/wavicle
they are / elliptic
>>>>>>>>>>STARBLIND/ we... ...are
we are / supra-orbital
the_event_horizon+++
blind: equate an infinitely diminishing diameter
as:
algae rhythms mark the compound sway of condylactus
(shrinking, de-tentaculate, and gone)
/have been/
we/ / become/ radio deaf. again.
and deaf the keening edge of time across
the whine of 'drift.
II Chemo-savvy
THE SONGS we never throat, in vacuum or
the hardecho pingpong
of lagging haloes taste
sipping raw the flavors and saltsweet
of nova dust and dark matter, mindless,
dancing among what chemical intimacies
separate poison from promise
or potential, bitter and sting...
heavens/scent hell/scent a madding olfactory limbo
OVER THERE, it screams, too late.
THERE, but getting lost again, when it stood upright,
grown vague among the vapors.
countless -tanes unnamed among
the aromatic infinities of void,
nosing starstench/
sniffing cold.
III TOUCH
> hotcold
indirect. neural. connection. > sandrush
> crush or crunch
tap-tap/snapping
Crab Nebula rage as
flotsam in
the fractal corners
tiny winding down - the body sense of womb or worm
removed - or coalesce/
igniting - too hot to pocket
or take to bed.
the grammars of fingertip flay seeking
anesthesia or rose water
it comes down to
waking up screaming TAG you're it
in quadraplegic sensurround
or not waking up.
IV and the other thing.
a dance of drunken scorpions, forgetful
of sting and careless,
in your mind a mask arachnid:
this - you are not ready for tomorrow;
and this - you will not wait.