7th, in a 9 part series for the 10th Daughter of Memory...'Shattered mirrors'.
Jamie was sitting in an air conditioned cabin suffering a mild bout of queasy. Monitors showed all below the sea bottom was easy cheesy and if only the motion stabilizers on the Erie Lepton worked then she would have a better time concentrating on the latest trial results-- instead of her lurching stomach. Seeing herself in the polished chrome of the instrument panel revealed bloodhot eyes and a greenish skin hue.
Mere months separated Jamie from a decade of computer simulations, money grubbing and government payoffs, to this: the big blue button with fingerprint recognition that flashed like an illuminated quartz. Under a flip up plastic sleeve it beckoned. She was itching to push that button.
I am not myself,
We are not working alone anymore.
They have amassed as one
after traveling these many years
over distances that mere mortals would deem obscene.
They did this thing on foot, against a furious
wind elemental that would make one of our
acts of God
feel like a common
frog fart.
My retinas have long ceased to see anything
but a great red spot.
The many are packed in so tightly
that the outer storms have turned
--drawn--
better intentions inward and are racing
in counter revolutions
to form a white ring
which connects hand to tail
mouth to foot
and rages unchecked pouring
every atmospheric ingredient
into the mix for the biggest
lightning act in history.
Our contraption is leaps and bounds
ahead of any earthly technology—
most likely it smacks of voodoo;
surely this thing is inexplicable
to even the brainiest of the indigent bunch,
for even with the minds and hearts
and enhanced motor skills
lent me
I fail to see the gears and the wires
to effect a meaningful employment.
Just this I know, for remember
I am not alone,
that this device is (in application)
the mirror image of another
some three hundred miles north
and a reflection
reflected onto itself
causes infinite reflections
and who can know the
way out
from a timeless
introspection?
Jamie was sitting in an air conditioned cabin suffering a mild bout of queasy. Monitors showed all below the sea bottom was easy cheesy and if only the motion stabilizers on the Erie Lepton worked then she would have a better time concentrating on the latest trial results-- instead of her lurching stomach. Seeing herself in the polished chrome of the instrument panel revealed bloodhot eyes and a greenish skin hue.
Mere months separated Jamie from a decade of computer simulations, money grubbing and government payoffs, to this: the big blue button with fingerprint recognition that flashed like an illuminated quartz. Under a flip up plastic sleeve it beckoned. She was itching to push that button.
I am not myself,
We are not working alone anymore.
They have amassed as one
after traveling these many years
over distances that mere mortals would deem obscene.
They did this thing on foot, against a furious
wind elemental that would make one of our
acts of God
feel like a common
frog fart.
My retinas have long ceased to see anything
but a great red spot.
The many are packed in so tightly
that the outer storms have turned
--drawn--
better intentions inward and are racing
in counter revolutions
to form a white ring
which connects hand to tail
mouth to foot
and rages unchecked pouring
every atmospheric ingredient
into the mix for the biggest
lightning act in history.
Our contraption is leaps and bounds
ahead of any earthly technology—
most likely it smacks of voodoo;
surely this thing is inexplicable
to even the brainiest of the indigent bunch,
for even with the minds and hearts
and enhanced motor skills
lent me
I fail to see the gears and the wires
to effect a meaningful employment.
Just this I know, for remember
I am not alone,
that this device is (in application)
the mirror image of another
some three hundred miles north
and a reflection
reflected onto itself
causes infinite reflections
and who can know the
way out
from a timeless
introspection?
10 comments:
Excellent. No chills, but a beautiful piece. Heh.
Looking forward to your chapter 8, you lunatic!
Bring on the Jupiter!
This is the one I want to read aloud ... if I can figure out how to do it.
I want a copy of Allegory Zebras. I tried to click on the image but nothing happened. Help.
Hold on Reya, if you are the only entry to the poetry reading you will have copy...(or at least you'll have good chances)
i have put this together through Blurb, and am not really sure how to make it available...i didn't really think there would be any interest.
ok! I figured it out and have linked to the bookstore.
nice...like how you switched up this chapter...wonderful read...
I really liked the change of pace here. And that title is killer. :)
Tom, I liked these lines:
They have amassed as one
after traveling these many years
over distances that mere mortals would deem obscene.
I will be back to read this after I've read the preceding.
Detour
I like that you brought a frog back here and "frog fart" is as good as "frog butter. Both just very odd.
Mad Hatter
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