In the very near future aliens show up near the Earth. After winning the trust of most right-thinking people they exchange some knowledge and goods. Among the trades the aliens offer a reasonable amount of some other commodity in exchange for the mineral rights to a 1 km x 1 km stretch of land out… Read more »
Posts tagged: writing
I wrote this story in 2001 as part of a “Galactic Noir” setting I was working on back then. In it’s tone Galactic Noir was largely inspired by short stories by George R.R. Martin, specifically those from his now out of print Sandkings short story collection (though not so much by the titular story). But… Read more »
Flying Numbers (2005) is a series of 49 poems written over a two-month period or so in 2004. Originally I published them on the web, but in 2005, I edited them into a PDF book-like format. Personally, I like their web presentation a little better than their PDF presentation. Some of the pictures for example… Read more »
The deer cannot see from the side of the highway the traffic beyond.
Bernheim, one of Governor Hentoff’s lackeys, was vomiting off behind a trash receptacle. I wasn’t big on politics, but for what it is worth, Bernheim would have been an idiot regardless of his profession. That morning and before the black hole had opened up in the middle of Chicago, he’d eaten three cheese steaks. “Try… Read more »
As the revels continue the Freehold gates, their chimeral aspect massive and dwarfing the hall’s celebrants, swing ajar. Their movement though is hesitant, cautious. Not the dramatic slam of pomp and grand entrance, nor the gentle swing they’d grant a welcome but timid visitor. The portal’s timbers seem to question one to the other in… Read more »
Mr. Pony fancy-pants doin’ the Mr. Pony sparkle dance Twirls and Spir-els for the squealing girls Who love that stupid pony Shoney Money Noney with regal hat Pony-Prance outta sight fat wildcat(s) trance and ending(s) stop beginning(s) on the giraffe neck(s).
In the crowd I heard someone say to a lover of mine never end with a clincher. She died. I didn’t attend her funeral. I didn’t wear black. I was a cold drift. I counted waves. I said alone, when things end, no one gives applause.
It drank in their violence and obsequiously begged that it might return the favor.