The Rhyme of the Ancient Space Mariner #2

Everyone (at a certain moment) was sound in mind and body.
Repeat this 30 times.

— Tristan Tzara

 

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10/03/2088

Todd said, “One of them knows where she was.

Cherenkov-something. Near ground control.

Makes sense. Blokes like that don’t work on jobs.

Not these blokes.”

This time she’s keeping her thought reasonable again:

Todd is an adult. She can look after herself.

And, more than a little crazy, she can taxi in in a few minutes.

Simply that, & a few words. But not Bierce!

She’s counting the days now. Todd unhinged her.

But here was a case of the pins on. Or was it?

The Man wouldn’t like Martians & Todd was one.

What do you care?

But why did The Man upsmile to herself?

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Peter Bies © 2010

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The Rhyme of the Ancient Space Mariner


Symbols can be so beautiful, sometimes. — Kurt Vonnegut

 

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08/03/2088

“A pageant of asteroids, see, growing there, silent,

rolling sheethingness it was. I caught a sight

of a violent sputnik – three hammocks thrashed

into craters, were savaged, ions and gamma rain –

some giant had gas. I tried to imagine white confetti,

white confetti had been in the slopes, nesting

mollminds bogged down. I knew their names,

any one of them. The moons of Mars mauled us fast,

& the mist us a whole. It was a weird mountain

heaving, growing out of space. It was strewn 

with fantastic fissures as though shapers had scoured

it with a particle beam, sculptured by vac to sprinkle

its sleet and hailyhawk, I guess. How many lightyears

this one? Chiselling, by & by. They were in all savage

enough to hit out on a tee like c-speed in the dark of space.”

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Peter Bies © 2010

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No More Translucent

“Nothing is always absolutely so.”

— Theodore Sturgeon

 

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the fire you create, Elaine,

 

your shadow flux of words

 

shall flee our hearts/

 

the shallow lust you moonlight

 

a glaze of seeping slime/

 

& the dusk I smell fell blue

 

no more translucent

 

&

 

I enjoy the late light

 

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Peter Bies © 2010

 

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Dog Star Night

“A life which is amorphous, plastic and crystalline. What am I talking about? Copula Maritalis? Or from alcohol to alkahest. Can you tell me?…”

— Malcolm Lowry, Under the Volcano

 

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fireflies

 green ghosts

 & cold fusion:

the shadows I absorb

 ignite the limbic heat

of dream state serendipity:

flying bugs on the flowers

 hot faces near the light

 & memories of water –

 undoing my past

 the pleasure

 never

ends

 

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Peter Bies © 2010

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The Lost Metaphor

Latent structure is master of obvious structure. — Heraclitus

 

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trying to recall

 

a broken promise
trying to remember

 

the lost metaphor

 

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cold clouds

 

dull whorls

 

my fingertips

 

growing old

 

in time lapse

 

while the rain fell

 

on empty hands

 

& into brackish water

 

(walking out of this world:
a phone ringing somewhere)

 

“Go without luggage!”

 

& the night will come

 

glowing in the trees

 

& I’m talking to empty graves

 

before the shadows enter

 

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trying to recall
memories of water

 

opaque

 

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Words: Peter Bies © 2010

Photography: Peter Carstens (peckmaster) © 2010

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A Dry Steady Wind


 Insane people – psychologically defined, not legally defined – are not in touch with reality.

— Philip K. Dick, Valis

 

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big leeches near the sea & quiet hooks on the flock/

& clouded grieving brilliant brains away from home:

no way out of this opaque & intangible b/w dream/

where I know no-one/ life is fleeing sinister & low/

quaking against a huge sky & meaning/ old shiva!

find the road back glowing rats below the towers!

& icons in the fire battle tiny globes/ draw peaceful

eye before the sky stone dream-like hands among

the clouds dry stroke the sirens/ over reek of dank

demons dark & tiny in the slime/ lustful eruptions

of electric animals/ crying eyeless/ & I forgot to go

home & listened to the whisper of a dry steady wind – 

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Peter Bies © 2010

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A Stir Of Unease

“It was, as if I had been shaking all my life, from a chronic undercurrent of fear.”

— Philip K. Dick, Valis

 

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Frozen beneath the sheets

I reach out for fading stars –

& our love is patiently dying.

 

Love, mildewed flower –

you’re bright delusions

& a stir of unease!

 

We are strangers, Elaine,

you & I – losing our way

while the worlds change.

 

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Peter Bies © 2010

 

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(Photo by Peckmaster)

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