Slow movement
Posted by Rich Magahiz Sun, 03 Aug 2008 13:33:00 GMT
violins to your left
low strings
to the right
raise your baton to cue dust-dimmed suns
First lines
Posted by Rich Magahiz Fri, 01 Aug 2008 14:03:00 GMT
It was when the second lightning bolt struck him that he started to take notice.
It was always the same - halfway through the third margarita of the night he started thinking of his mother.
“Oh, just give me that chainsaw,” Father said, just before she noticed something she hadn’t seen before.
Her moans were getting more distinctive now through the open window, just when his phone started playing “Edelweiss.” He stood up suddenly and gave his skull a hard knock on the sill.
If these are fresh dinosaur tracks, she wondered, why does this one have the imprint of a zipper down the side?
We all knew Cletus was going to die, even though he had been sleeping with the stage manager.
If this phone doesn’t ring real soon, she thought, it’s going down the disposal too.
They found the secret long after the fighting had ended, after they had taken most of the dead slaves from the hold and thrown them overboard, and long after the flagship sank beneath the oily surface.
Sssst, the iNanny went, until she turned it off.
The two of thm were in Ginetta’s waiting to place their orders when he started in on his theory that all rugs are area rugs. “And Dhurry is their prophet,” she replied, automatically.
“Florence! Hurry it up, why don’tya, and get your radomes over here before we all die of thirst!”
The lesions on the dead man’s arms and hands were consistent with corvid predation.
I was switching stuff over to a new PDA and ran across this year-old file.
Index entry
Posted by Rich Magahiz Mon, 28 Jul 2008 20:37:00 GMT
To the Omega
she plights her troth.
So noted.
Perhaps, perhaps not
Posted by Rich Magahiz Wed, 23 Jul 2008 11:48:00 GMT
They say it was flowing groundwater that made these canyons on the surface of Mars, but to me it looks to be the work of a gigantic, malicious child, dragging his or her enormous fingers through a freshly iced cake when a colossal parent was not attending to what was happening, and scooping the confection into a cavernous, rock-crushing, planet-devouring maw.
Except for that part at the top. That does look like groundwater.
There and back again
Posted by Rich Magahiz Tue, 22 Jul 2008 19:32:00 GMT
Do
not
bother
to bring a
toothbrush, or a book –
it’ll be over sooner than that –
but you’ll want a camera and a box of postcards.
And when they bring the tray of drinks
and make you sit up,
make a scene!
They made
us
wait.
Virgin employees sit in the cabin of a prototype Virgin Galactic SpaceShipTwo spacecraft at the Science Museum on February 14, 2007 in London, England. The Virgin Galactic SpaceShipTwo is destined to be the first ever vehicle for space tourism. The SpaceShipTwo will carry six passengers and two pilots, offering a total flight time of 2 hours. Around 200 firm reservations have been placed already with projected flight costs estimated to be $200,000 per passenger.
Propulsion system for hybrid craft blows up
Gossip
Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 19 Jul 2008 22:33:00 GMT
unlike
us,
she does not
keep it in a
cranium; instead it hangs
in a velvet pouch at her waist where it swings
not far from her dagger hand
and if you ask –
with a smile –
she’ll
show you
The Lucan-no-haiku form is described in a marginal note here. This one is a slight variation taking a mirrored 2-1-3-4-7-11-7-4-3-1-2 syllable count
What we were talking about
Posted by Rich Magahiz Mon, 07 Jul 2008 16:20:00 GMT
Looking down at him where he sat, slackjawed, perturbed, she slipped off her shoe, ran her foot into the slit pocket of his navy cashmere jacket, painted toenails and the ball of her foot touching the silk lining, jangling his keys and change. “So then, mister,” she whispered, “I believe we were talking about finances.”
Turista
Posted by Rich Magahiz Tue, 01 Jul 2008 11:20:00 GMT
A Vulcan chap touring Myanmar,
Was seized with with the need for Pon Farr.
One hand clutching the wheel,
He reached out to feel
For the mind-melding link to OnStar.
At night the fractal stairway speaks
Posted by Rich Magahiz Tue, 01 Jul 2008 00:02:00 GMT
my ripped heart
you will find northwest of
my ripped heart
Sentry
Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 21 Jun 2008 19:22:00 GMT
It was part ray gun, part flit gun. Morris held it carelessly. He
didn’t enjoy the fit of his nose filters, either.
Out of the dark came a slap on his cheek. The numb bite of arachnoid
analogue left him little time to aim. Straight to the face!
Unfortunately, she had filters of her own…
Specular reflections
Posted by Rich Magahiz Fri, 20 Jun 2008 01:30:00 GMT
addressing
that sweet abyss:
“yes, yes”
shot full of holes, the substance of our dreams
Sklar, Gibson, and Yong –
their lungs full of
something grey…
floors turn into ceilings (halfway there)
still,
she had to go back…
the smell of burning hair
the purple ones are the girls, I think
there, boy, look!
that nebula there
that was your father
I count the stars; each one flares and dims
he tells her
“put on your other face,
the other”
flecked with hot sauce: angel wings, deep-fried
text, don’t write:
my senses have taken
leave of me
they took a risk. who remembers them?
the loudest prayer
ever said…
and it was answered
Que sera sera
Posted by Rich Magahiz Thu, 12 Jun 2008 11:20:00 GMT
huge, warlike lobsters?
we’ve got our tanks
of butter
The Man Who Knew Too Much
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