Nature’s patterns
Repeat
In scale
And context
A Martian landscape?
Or an Earthly detail?
Category: Detail
Ripples in Time
A couple hundred million years ago
The tide receded for the last time
Leaving ripples in the sand
The tide receded for the last time
Leaving ripples in the sand
To the rock, it seems just yesterday
It had been the sand
Gently rolling with the waves
Heavy Air
The air is heavy
Laden
Saturated
Laden
Saturated
Clings to my flesh
Beads on my clothing
Thick with moisture
The Dragon is China
“The Dragon is China,” she told me.
I nodded an assent, then shook my head… paused. “What does that mean?”
She told me. I must still not have understood, because I’ve forgotten. Only the phrase is left. I couldn’t focus, and the image in my mind drifted away.
Like this photo of a dragon-handled brazier at Kong Miao, the Confucius Temple in Beijing. Ever so slightly, focussed too deep. And like a photograph, there is no way, hard as I’ve tried, to bring China fully into focus.
Like a hammer on a drum.
Continued from Come, it said.
Out of the darkness, I see a glint of steel, coming at me.
The glint of steel becomes a fist, becomes an arm… becomes an army.
An army of steel, allied only with steel. It marches, gleefully, through a sea of terror, slices through, like a scimitar through flesh.
No. A scythe, like a scythe through a field of humanity.
Come, it said.
“Come,” it said, gesturing with an upturned palm, the gentleness of the movement belying the rigidity of its fingers, its joints, the stiffness of the steel with which we’d made him.
Him? It.
Nature’s Paint Brush
Nature has this way
Of letting creatures who think they control her
Know she is always there
And how ephemeral their efforts really are
Of letting creatures who think they control her
Know she is always there
And how ephemeral their efforts really are
Haiku Hot Rod
Flames trailing flaring
fender. Accelerator
down, slicing the wind.
fender. Accelerator
down, slicing the wind.
Don’t touch that!
“Patrick! Don’t touch that!”
After which two things happened: I looked at my mother, and I touched it.
Modern until tomorrow
Modern until tomorrow
When today becomes yesterday
When today becomes yesterday
Pix to Words 