082419

self-cleaning carpet

left my drunk husband

in here somewhere

082319d

http://sfpoetry.com/sl/issues/starline42.3.html

TOC of the next Star*line: beaucoup speculative poetry

One of the editor's choice poems is by me (you can read it at the link).

082319c

Only when it was too late, Billy and Susie realized that the entire field was made of a peculiar gluey form of mousse to a considerable depth.

082319b

Brazil's President Wants To Destroy Everything (get in line)


The last generation,
not really the last,
but the last with any hope,
any hope of enough food,
clean water, safe places to live,
life that's worth living.

The last,
until, that is,
another species lifts itself up
by its bootstraps,
imagines it can do better
than 200,000 years.
The bar is low.

082319

Overprinting

Some naked thing,

Fumbling towards dawn

With a torch in its hand,

Sensations:

A sharpness on the feet,

A chill, goosebumps,

The rough wood on its skin.

It has no speech, not yet,

It will remember nothing

Of this, after words come,

Writing over these first

Sensual memories

That will never be accessed again,

That first there was something,

Then, something more,

And then: everything!

082219e

The computer's alive! Soon I can finish DN 113 & send it to the printer. Probably this weekend.

082219d

skating on thin ice
colony
at the lunar pole