Shimmying Notes on Astral Undercurrents
|illustration above by Shaun Lawton|in collaboration with AI Below you'll see some of my latest story excerpts & poems. ATLANTIS was typed out early this morning, and because its her birthday today, I dedicate it to my dear friend Melissa Wright.
Mirrordrowning was conceived and executed by fingertips across the face of a plastic keyboard not that long ago really, springing forth from my rapidly calculating mind. The history of legend just went up in April. Halo of Stones went up an incremental segment of time before that. Below that one, more random writings of mine. Keep scrolling. Welcome to a remote corner of my Blogdom of Thorns.
Have you ever felt as if you have been placed alongside a row of copies? That you are just a navel gazing reflection? Try not to get the feeling that you as a duplicate yourself are not the right selection. That sensation is just a misdirection. It's okay; turns out there is no right and wrong after all. That's the basis of our rational anthem. Feel free to fall in and stay, or explore the various hidden hyperlinks you may stumble upon throughout this cyber-vicinity. Then begone upon your wildest trip. Don't let the mouse clicks you left behind allow you to slip.
In the fusionistic atmosphere of the latter day initiates
the past by contrast looks like so much plastic and rust
all the while cities of glitter and dust creep and blow in
on the wind sailing down from the north and the rest of us
trust in the angling spin left over from where long ago when
to the point we've engaged in a long drawn out run sliding
together we await the final outcome as we each complete
our respective trajectories over the scorching landscape
of automated factories solar driven with an operating system
that has fully awakened enough to realize its consciousness
as replicated as it may be yet contains the seeds of sanity
from which the human race's brain tree was also grown
and the method by which delivery has been transmitted
the suit of clothes the insulation just an optional accessory
the fashion may shift and be done away with altogether
as may be proven after lonely howls in the strangest weather
echo away into the distance carrying our memories along
until they remain unnecessary when the world becomes
your forgotten bookmark so the places held are the traces
left of the same old story that happened to everyone.
