Do our cells take family portraits? Yes. Do they comb their cilia out into gelatinous manes? They do. The photographs go up on cellular walls. When are the shots taken? Whenever there is a flash, a burst of white. When do these opportune moments come?… Read More
Zebulun’s comet flashes like a derailed pendulum. A hot stone mad with joules.
The vast temple in the void. A slow tomb full of elegant regret. The portal is always open, is always closed. The whistle of space being compressed. We believe danger dances most truthfully when death closes its eyes before throwing the dart.… Read More
You witnessed their gathering perched in a distant tree. Fear and joy commingled in the pit of your stomach like the communion of honey-silk and radish-venom.
A strange pollen drifted outward from that circle of beings. It floated in a heavy, sagging stream toward your perch.Your head grew dizzy as the electrochemistry of your body surged and flared; the pH of your fervent skin climbed to dash the hopes of opportunistic microbes.… Read More
After reading this Barthes line, my imagination went nuts, splashing his words with watercolor and building the following scene:
‘Rescind yourself,’ life mandates in its soothing, raspy voice.
‘No,’ you respond, firmly.
The bottom of your feet start to tickle. You feel extinction’s eraser working softly.… Read More