Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 10 Dec 2011 11:18:00 GMT

cling to an ice chunk stolen from Oort

trickle charge patient countdown timers

all up in there this vitreous belle

dopplered down the midwife technicians

Sweet Lilac
pregnant still that notional tremor

Sodalite Blue
pressure seals primed for different basalts

a puff unheard that warhead still works

curtains draw shut the porch light flicks off

Solar Power
the line’s death feeble satellites fail

Tangerine Tango
twin jets of fallout: Antaeus dies

Spring 2012
Prior report from last year: Your color palette, 2011
From five years back: Your color palette

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Posted by Rich Magahiz Thu, 05 May 2011 17:41:00 GMT

waste heat bright,
outside, a dustscape
and I, a creature made of meat,
have just the madly blazing stars for companionship…

back to inchworm form the flutterby

Soap Bubble In Space?
Soap Bubble In Space?
Uploaded by TailspinT

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Sir Dooku

Posted by Rich Magahiz Thu, 13 Jan 2011 14:23:00 GMT

climb on
that speeder bike
we’ll play some old softshoe
this short one’s one quite peculiar

a theme,
now lush as a lotus
and then indigo-tinged darkness,
my lord

in the order
swingin’ an antique blade
and jamming out with robes now tan,
now black

midis bred in the blood,
that band of droids that march so sweet
gone beige

my hopped up count,
grooving smooth with the Force –-
boys, he can feel it all over:

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Your color palette, 2011

Posted by Rich Magahiz Mon, 13 Dec 2010 21:37:00 GMT

crack crack the geologist’s hammer speaks

Coral Rose
unnamed satellite dim behind ring plane

1830 mess squeezed, not tasted

patch of sand buried where she was stricken

Silver Peony
biolab console upset stray wiring harness

twelve sols to aphelion a fubar beacon

annunciators strobe the space between breaths

Blue Curaçao
rising from barren wastes to call it “contact”

the crystals on the faceplate comrade and seer

Silver Cloud
ignition to deny the horror

Spring 2011
Prior report from four years back: Your color palette

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living rough

Posted by Rich Magahiz Fri, 28 May 2010 03:01:00 GMT

see a falling star strike camp and haul ass all night

sharpen your resolve memorize all their soft points

where caimans come swarming there dropships have not been

answer no chiming phone their sense of smell is weak

mess at midday your cook fire concealed from orbit

ripe mangoes for energy meat when you find it

plead for no mercy their breasts colder than Neptune

Originally uploaded by beta karel

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Cathedral of aspiration

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sun, 09 May 2010 15:42:00 GMT

pressed Armani
at parapet level
a thin stew of rainwater through
the lips

frescoes of stars
their copacetic cribs
their chrome and neon couplings and
their sins

straining the bas-relief
and off to the side a tiny

in glass
those famous lips
not autotuned but poised
at the rim of a porcelain

and we
huddled masses
gaze at the images
the raw slack-jawed wide-eyed envy
thrills us

Nathan Coley : There Will Be No Miracles Here
Originally uploaded by stunned

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Mashup published in Dreams and Nightmares 85

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 23 Jan 2010 01:40:00 GMT

Image Hosted by ImageShack.us
By milkfish, shot with KODAK EASYSHARE C643 ZOOM DIGITAL CAMERA at 2010-01-22
I just received my contributors’ copies of David Kopaska-Merkel’s Dreams and Nightmares, issue 85, which contain my Wallace Stevens – J. R. R. Tokien mashup Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Balrog. I read it again, and I have to admit that sometimes I crack me up.

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Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Balrog

Posted by Rich Magahiz Fri, 14 Aug 2009 18:59:00 GMT

Among the mountain roots,
The only sound at all
Was the alarm summoning the Balrog.

I was triply lost
Like a chamber
In which there were three Balrogs.

The Balrog boiled up dwarf-hewn tunnels
It was minutes to showtime.

A flame and burning
Are one.
A flame and burning and a Balrog
Are one.

I do not know what works better
Rocks split by hate,
Or rocks split by fear,
The flame-sword of the Balrog
Or his damn whip.

Stones bridge broad chasms
Thanks to the trolls.
The man-shaped Balrog
Leapt over, facing East.
The grey one
Names in the darkness
A secret fire.

Goblins of
Why do you imagine dragon hoards?
Do you not see how the Balrog
Turns his black-gold eyes
Toward the surface?

I know the Black Speech
And the drums that go Doom;
But I know, obviously,
That the Balrog is crucial
To what I know.

When the Balrog reached First Deep
A trail of smoke
Arched gently.

At the sight of a Balrog
With a whip of thongs
Even Durin’s wife
Would squeal with excitement.

They made for the Great Gate
Stumbling and shoving.
Once, a fear shook them
In that they mistook
The shadow of an ogre
For a Balrog.

The bridge is smitten.
The Balrog must be plummeting.

It was getting dark early
And down there
It was always dark.
The Balrog on shift
Did not clock out.

Obligatory attribution
Accepted for publication at Dreams and Nightmares
Nominated for a 2011 Rhysling Award (long poem) for the SFPA.

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Stellarenga published online

Posted by Rich Magahiz Tue, 27 Jan 2009 23:36:00 GMT

My solo stellarenga On extended leave from 2007 has been published in the latest issue of the online quarterly LYNX.

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Coffee ghazal

Posted by Rich Magahiz Fri, 09 Jan 2009 13:04:00 GMT

Just log in with username ‘coffee’,
The password, of course, also ‘coffee.’
Kiss me with your Sunday morning mouth
I want to taste that strong black coffee.
There is something I have to tell you.
I met someone, skin black as coffee….
Officials said the house was empty,
steam rising from two mugs of coffee.
From the exercise yard he looked back ’
The smell of someone brewing coffee.
She moved the floor lamp a foot to the right,
but could not hide the stain of coffee.
The edge of a shaft of sun
bisects the surface of my coffee.
If there is any hope of heaven for us,
let it be a place with good coffee.
Hidden in the forest shadows,
a tiny plot planted with coffee.
The last Space Station resupply craft:
It brought but oxygen and coffee.
When I look into your nut-brown eyes
I need a couple cups of coffee.
She fainted on the waiting room floor
poisoned, they say, by so-called coffee.
We should never have opened her will;
terms burning hotter than fresh coffee.
The Rabbi spoke slowly for all to hear
“Your misdeeds call for tepid coffee.”
When she was only a willful child
she laid schemes to get hold of coffee.
The Chinese invented many things,
but the one they forgot was coffee.
Two hands clasp a cracked mug of coffee.
You take your God. This fool takes coffee.

Marked up at Everything2

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Posted by Rich Magahiz Fri, 15 Aug 2008 01:19:00 GMT

won’t matter
the tympanum ignores

we always knew
unchecked growth

tiptoe everywhere
sunlight punishes irresponsibility

hide your children
as instars

by coldlight
twice three legs

the manifest mystery
ever remains:

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There and back again

Posted by Rich Magahiz Tue, 22 Jul 2008 18:32:00 GMT

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

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

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