Velvet ebony
To the color of wet steel
Dyed indigo.
A shy hint of violet
Blossoming to rose.
Gold spreading over the waves.
Dawn.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Sunrise Over an Australian Beach
Velvet ebony
To the color of wet steel
Dyed indigo.
A shy hint of violet
Blossoming to rose.
Gold spreading over the waves.
Dawn.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Elephant in the Corner
Do you see the elephant?
The spotty gray one
In the corner?
Just standing there,
Smiling.
It is your fault.
My fault.
It’s there.
The thing between us
That we both want to talk about,
Scream about.
But instead we bite our tongues
Till we taste blood.
It’s there,
In my eyes.
The way they run from you like escaped convicts.
It’s there,
In your mouth.
The way it turns down when I walk by.
The elephant stares.
Its red-rimmed eyes
Laughing.
As we circle each other
In silence.
It stands there,
Grinning.
Until we
Open our mouths.
“We need to talk.”
The spotty gray one
In the corner?
Just standing there,
Smiling.
It is your fault.
My fault.
It’s there.
The thing between us
That we both want to talk about,
Scream about.
But instead we bite our tongues
Till we taste blood.
It’s there,
In my eyes.
The way they run from you like escaped convicts.
It’s there,
In your mouth.
The way it turns down when I walk by.
The elephant stares.
Its red-rimmed eyes
Laughing.
As we circle each other
In silence.
It stands there,
Grinning.
Until we
Open our mouths.
“We need to talk.”
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Spoiler: an excerpt from The Adventures of Tony the Kid
At dawn the sun rises over the southern edge of Quintarra. There it is met by one of the four sun gods of the major religions or, every fifth day, by one of the nine sun deities of the minor religions*.
Nanzame is waiting now, not because it is her turn, but because Quar’s dragon came down with a mysterious case of indigestion only hours before he was to greet the sun. She had planned for months. Getting a sun dragon to eat nitro berries is almost impossible and it is even harder to slip past the guards into the solar stable where the animals of the sun deities are kept under close guard. But she has done it. She will be riding proudly across the sky during her followers’ annual sun festival. She will be there to soak up their collective power right from the source. She smiles remembering Quar’s fury when he found Sol belching fireballs. Nanzame sweeps her badly charred cloak* over her shoulders and steps into her bronze chariot as the sun settles into its path behind her. She clicks her tongue and the curly-horned goats begin the slow trudge across the sky.
Nanzame scans the skies in front of her. She frowns. Large clouds are building over Ukekinstron where the majority of her nine-hundred and thirty-seven believers are preparing for the festival. The only festival held just for her in the world. She has no proof, but she knows Quar is behind the sudden storm clouds. She glares at the puffy gray masses and hopes they won’t cost her any more believers. Less than nine-hundred followers and the sun goddess of the Third True Religion will be removed from the rotation all together. Sighing, Nanzame forces herself stand up straight. Clouds or no clouds, today is her day to escort the sun.
Their journey will take them past the four major continents if Quintarra, over the top of the towering, cloud covered mountain, Deius Monte, at the center of the world. But Nanzame’s goats don’t really care about these things, they resent having to leave their evergreen fields of sweet grass to pull an armor-clad woman and a huge burning ball across the whole sky. They are unimpressed by the great capitals they pass over; New Malum, Queenstown, River City, cities made of so much glass and polished stone they appear to be made of light. The goats only plod along the well worn path dreaming of the little purple flowers that taste like pepper.
At dusk, the journey done, the sun will slip past the once great island empire of Brighton as it sinks below the northern edge of the world.
Although there is much disagreement as to who exactly is pulling or pushing the sun across the sky, the majority of the sentient inhabitants of Quintarra believe the next day the sun will rise again in the south to repeat its journey. And so it will be.
*The decision to rotate solar escorts was decided at the Treaty of Deities after the thousand years war ended in an inevitable stalemate. Along with decisions on the granting of prayers to other deities and the size and design of residences in the Celestial City, it was agreed that the squabbles and sabotage occurring between the thirteen sun deities was unproductive. Thus a rotational system was implemented to alleviate the need for so many chariot repairs and veterinarian visits. For the most part the new system has eliminated such incidents.
*The result of trying to get a Sol to eat something he really didn’t want to.
Nanzame is waiting now, not because it is her turn, but because Quar’s dragon came down with a mysterious case of indigestion only hours before he was to greet the sun. She had planned for months. Getting a sun dragon to eat nitro berries is almost impossible and it is even harder to slip past the guards into the solar stable where the animals of the sun deities are kept under close guard. But she has done it. She will be riding proudly across the sky during her followers’ annual sun festival. She will be there to soak up their collective power right from the source. She smiles remembering Quar’s fury when he found Sol belching fireballs. Nanzame sweeps her badly charred cloak* over her shoulders and steps into her bronze chariot as the sun settles into its path behind her. She clicks her tongue and the curly-horned goats begin the slow trudge across the sky.
Nanzame scans the skies in front of her. She frowns. Large clouds are building over Ukekinstron where the majority of her nine-hundred and thirty-seven believers are preparing for the festival. The only festival held just for her in the world. She has no proof, but she knows Quar is behind the sudden storm clouds. She glares at the puffy gray masses and hopes they won’t cost her any more believers. Less than nine-hundred followers and the sun goddess of the Third True Religion will be removed from the rotation all together. Sighing, Nanzame forces herself stand up straight. Clouds or no clouds, today is her day to escort the sun.
Their journey will take them past the four major continents if Quintarra, over the top of the towering, cloud covered mountain, Deius Monte, at the center of the world. But Nanzame’s goats don’t really care about these things, they resent having to leave their evergreen fields of sweet grass to pull an armor-clad woman and a huge burning ball across the whole sky. They are unimpressed by the great capitals they pass over; New Malum, Queenstown, River City, cities made of so much glass and polished stone they appear to be made of light. The goats only plod along the well worn path dreaming of the little purple flowers that taste like pepper.
At dusk, the journey done, the sun will slip past the once great island empire of Brighton as it sinks below the northern edge of the world.
Although there is much disagreement as to who exactly is pulling or pushing the sun across the sky, the majority of the sentient inhabitants of Quintarra believe the next day the sun will rise again in the south to repeat its journey. And so it will be.
*The decision to rotate solar escorts was decided at the Treaty of Deities after the thousand years war ended in an inevitable stalemate. Along with decisions on the granting of prayers to other deities and the size and design of residences in the Celestial City, it was agreed that the squabbles and sabotage occurring between the thirteen sun deities was unproductive. Thus a rotational system was implemented to alleviate the need for so many chariot repairs and veterinarian visits. For the most part the new system has eliminated such incidents.
*The result of trying to get a Sol to eat something he really didn’t want to.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Even Cows Have Dreams
The cow
Stands munching
Emerald blades of grass.
Her sad eyes
Roam over the sweeping plains.
To be a bird
To fly
But now,
Only the quiet chewing.
And the yearning,
Deep in her soul-
Even cows have dreams.
Stands munching
Emerald blades of grass.
Her sad eyes
Roam over the sweeping plains.
To be a bird
To fly
But now,
Only the quiet chewing.
And the yearning,
Deep in her soul-
Even cows have dreams.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Spoiler: an excerpt from Chasing Shadows
Daniel waited in the darkness. The rough bark of the oak scratched at his skin through his thin jacket, but he didn’t dare move. The witches were out there; maybe close. The Reverend would be furious if he accidentally warned them. He tried to exhale silently. His breath hung like clouds in the cold air.
The almanac said the frost would be early this year – near the middle of November – but it was only the end of October and already he could smell the snow in the air. Daniel smiled; Aunt Ruth had been right.
He looked out over the newly harvested fields to the river; his eyes followed its silver ribbon south. In the moonlit distance, the Arch rose up over the landscape.
Great-grandpa had said that when he was a little boy St. Louis was a magnificent city. Then the terrorists had set off their bombs, killing all the machines. You used to be able to take a small train to the top of the Arch and look out over miles of country. People had been trapped at the top of the Arch when the bombs went off. The way great-grandpa had said it, Daniel had never got up the courage to ask if they had been rescued.
And the cars. Great-grandpa always came back to them. All the colors you could imagine and they could go hundreds of miles without stopping. His father had driven the 2057 Ford truck. It had never started after the bombs fried the electronics. Great-grandpa would gaze at the rusted out shell behind the barn every day as they came in from the fields and each time he would put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder and sigh, “This was gonna be mine the day I turned sixteen.” Every time the same.
But the part that amazed Daniel, the thing he wished he had seen, was the airplanes. Great-grandpa said they could take you all over the world in just hours. When he was younger, Daniel would beg great-grandpa to tell him about the planes. He would close his eyes as great-grandpa described looking through the small window and seeing the ground spread out below like a green and brown quilt; or the cities, how when you flew over them at night they seemed like magical kingdoms full of twinkling lights. There was no sleep those nights. Instead he would spend the dark hours trying to imagine what it would have been like to fly.
But great-grandpa had died two winters ago and Daniel was too old for stories. The closest he would ever come to the grandeur of the old man’s cities was the sunset reflecting off the broken glass of the distant high rises.
The muddy smell of the river broke through the warm cloud of memories. This was not the time to get lost in the past; this was a time to be sharp, alert. His soul depended on it.
The almanac said the frost would be early this year – near the middle of November – but it was only the end of October and already he could smell the snow in the air. Daniel smiled; Aunt Ruth had been right.
He looked out over the newly harvested fields to the river; his eyes followed its silver ribbon south. In the moonlit distance, the Arch rose up over the landscape.
Great-grandpa had said that when he was a little boy St. Louis was a magnificent city. Then the terrorists had set off their bombs, killing all the machines. You used to be able to take a small train to the top of the Arch and look out over miles of country. People had been trapped at the top of the Arch when the bombs went off. The way great-grandpa had said it, Daniel had never got up the courage to ask if they had been rescued.
And the cars. Great-grandpa always came back to them. All the colors you could imagine and they could go hundreds of miles without stopping. His father had driven the 2057 Ford truck. It had never started after the bombs fried the electronics. Great-grandpa would gaze at the rusted out shell behind the barn every day as they came in from the fields and each time he would put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder and sigh, “This was gonna be mine the day I turned sixteen.” Every time the same.
But the part that amazed Daniel, the thing he wished he had seen, was the airplanes. Great-grandpa said they could take you all over the world in just hours. When he was younger, Daniel would beg great-grandpa to tell him about the planes. He would close his eyes as great-grandpa described looking through the small window and seeing the ground spread out below like a green and brown quilt; or the cities, how when you flew over them at night they seemed like magical kingdoms full of twinkling lights. There was no sleep those nights. Instead he would spend the dark hours trying to imagine what it would have been like to fly.
But great-grandpa had died two winters ago and Daniel was too old for stories. The closest he would ever come to the grandeur of the old man’s cities was the sunset reflecting off the broken glass of the distant high rises.
The muddy smell of the river broke through the warm cloud of memories. This was not the time to get lost in the past; this was a time to be sharp, alert. His soul depended on it.
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