Qed

So you thought writing spec fiction was easy…

Words for Webstock – Bruce Sterling.

nothing is black and white
even these words
they have a vague
ill-defined edge
it sounds so simple
but the detail hides
another world.

nothing is black or white
although we sometimes
act
the bird eludes the cat
the car collides
things could be otherwise
different perhaps.

the dress is white
the sky is black
yes you can and
no you can’t
one and one makes two
its so simple
can’t you see?

did you know [...]

Meandering
a slick of brown
in a sea of green
the steelwork spanning
and dividing.

Faint hearted now
departed
the tokens all collected
best kept but not
remembered.

Those who choose
stay
endure the gifts of nature
its bounty there
for all to see
and sheltered still
the cautious horses.

Gathered later a likely crowd
spreading cheer and mirth
and chips around.

Moments now of
moments then.

We pass this way
hastily
our journeys crazed
with shells acquired
the soul endures
and [...]

Stilgherrian’s post got me started and I also confess to a hankering to fiddle with bits of gear every now and then. For instance today’s edict from Jobs regarding the new wank phone has me calculating budgets between now and July 11 to see if I can possibly justify such an indulgence. The rumor that [...]

the hand slowly passed a glass
of water
was it slow or did time just pause
so briefly
a swan stops then paddles slowly on
the water
clothed in golden glows the trees
do nothing
as winter steals the show.

A passing car broke through
reminding me of you
and the lines fore wrote
now shared

the writing came with ease
fed by silence unrelenting
a just cause, but undeserving
and dutifully ignored

big and bold
black on white
easy on the eye
still, as they traveled
in waves from mind
to voice betrayed, the eyes
revealed a wound not healed.

Later
darkness swallows another day
in passing, there was no inspiration
only [...]

the wiring isn’t quite right today

there is a break somewhere

a disconnect, the signals skipped some vital pathway

the button pushed too hard, the machine is broken

now.

Do we have this gift of self

by accident, and who gave it

to us and why

should we bother to try and understand?

should we bother at all…