Signs of My Affection

Do I need to show you

Exactly how I feel?

Do I have to climb a bridge,

Do I have to steal?

If I should go away

And never come back,

Will you still believe

that my love won’t lack?

Signs of my affection
I’m working every day.

Signs of my affection

I’ll never go away.

Whenever I think of you

My heart leaps in my chest.

Whatever they think of you

I know that you’re the best.

All the time I’m around you,

The smile won’t leave my face.

Now that I know that forever I’m yours

There’s no one to take your place.

Signs of my affection
I’m working every day.

Signs of my affection

I’ll never go away.

Mirrorshades

Light and life mirrors,

reflect and refract

the soul and existence.

To shine and to receive,

these are each our call.

To amplify and transform,

these are each our answer.

Pathways

A flying arrow

A thought

A direction of travel

The work of our life.

To live here and now

To give and receive

To love all around you

The destiny of all life.

An Errand of Love

Silver stars arch a cerise sky,

I pause to cross a stony brook.

A zephyr caresses my cheek and musses my hair,

as I run an errand of love.

Dusk blazes orange-red tendrils,

tearing a purple sky to glory.

I rest my weary feet and think,

what will the end of my travel bring?

The path I walk dissolves,

white mists of forgetfulness.

My journey is now a search,

my destination but a future memory.

Looking for America

Looking for America.

Trying to find myself in the

faces of everyone I see

on the freeway, in restaurants, and searching for love

at night.

Looking for America.

Asking for a place,

a moment in your heart,

somewhere to rest my head and call

home.

The goal of all of us

in the end.

Found Objects

Rain fell hard on the road, creating rainbow streaked puddles of oily water reflecting the lights of the distant port.

Crabs skittered across the asphalt, braving destruction by oncoming a-g fields, on their way to ancient instinctual appointments.

Light flared as a car topped the next hill, then disappeared. Light flared again, twin spotlights erasing the dark. The car stopped, then sank to the ground as the a-g field was cut. The door opened with a sigh and a hiss, tendrils of ammonia and methane steaming in the cold night air. A gloved hand reached out and plucked a crab from the road. The door closed, then opened a moment later. A crab soon followed, trailing epithets and loud laughter from the car. The a-g field whined to life and the car sped off into the night.

Sparks glinted, following the crab as it skittered back to its home in the tide pool.

*** ***

Suddenly the night was banished in favor of day. Rodale looked up and muttered, “Never a moments peace with that port nearby.” He went back to shining the silvered sphere he had discovered in a tide pool while crabbing that morning. He hummed as he worked.

Gradually the sphere began to hum as he did. Not noticing it, he continued to rub the sphere, but soon the sound grew loud enough for him to hear. He stopped humming in surprise, and the sphere stopped. He started humming and the sphere started humming as well.

“A parrot,” he thought, and said “Hello.” The sphere replied “Hrmmo.” Rodale laughed and the sphere tinkled with parrot laughter, making Rodale laugh harder, in a spiral to a merry crescendo.

“Well,” Rodale thought, “the port does have some benefits. This orb is probably worth a chit or two.”

He resumed shining the sphere, as his thoughts turned to the happy prospect of boat repairs, new boots and gloves, supplies, and maybe a hot shower, shave, a soft bed and bedmate even. The sphere began to warm in his hands as he continued to shine it. It was a warm and intimate feeling, and the sphere echoed his emotion. He grew sleepy, as it was late, and he slept the quiet sleep of a satisfied soul.

The port market was crowded with every type of merchant, beggar, thief, tourist, and non-human remnant scatterings of a thousand worlds. The clatter, noise, and distractions did not affect Rodale in the slightest as he cradled the sphere under his cloak. It tingled in his hand, echoing his anticipation of the business soon to be conducted.

He finally reached his merchant friend Teeline’s shop in a quieter, more prosperous section of the market. Chimes announced his entry, and Teeline brightened at the sight of his old friend.

“How are the tide pools these days, Rodie?” Teeline grinned as he shook Rodale’s hand.

“Always the same, always different, Tee,” Rodale replied. “How’s the rag trade?”

“Always different, always the same, Rodie,” Teeline said, completing their ritual greeting.

Rescue Mission

The stars shone with impersonal brilliance as Jones jetted to the surface of the asteroid. This rescue mission was hopeless, as he could already see the liner cracked open like an ostrich egg eaten by snakes, debris strewn for kilometers along the furrow behind the ship.

He was a professional, and would duly carry out his assignment regardless of his own opinion.

As he approached the ship, he could see flames coming from holes in the hull. “Hm, escaping gas. Maybe I will find some survivors,” he thought, then dismissed it out of hand. His judgment was too good for that.

He circled the ship and his helmet relayed the view to his lighter. There were no other fires that he could see on IR, so he dropped inside through one of the larger cracks in the hull.

His suit light and spotlight came on and revealed a jumble of crates, luggage and their contents. Clothes, food, machine goods, jewelry, the product of a hundred star systems lay scattered like dragon treasure. “The cargo hold,” muttered Jones as he pulled up the ship’s schematic on his visor. After a moment, a blinking cursor showed his position. He instructed his computer to locate the fire and display a path there. The computer told him the odds of him losing his life if he tried to rescue someone from the fire. He chuckled and started down the path indicated by the computer. As he skirted debris, bodies and frantic cleaning robots, he noticed that he was gaining weight. He checked the G meter and told the computer to find the passage to the bridge. “I was wrong, someone just turned on G.” He tongued the transmitter and sent the message to the circling rescue ship. “Someone just turned G’s on, I’m going to the bridge.”

His boss replied, “OK, but watch the fires.”

He skirted more debris, bodies and frantic robots on his way to the bridge. As the bridge approached, his weight increased until he had to fire up his suit’s A-G. The closer he got to the bridge, the more the gees piled up. Outside the bridge door, it read 15 gees. He whistled, his radio squawked, and his boss asked what the hell was going on.

“Gees are up to 15 earth, boss.”

His boss whistled, and the radio squawked. “Damn that radio. Go slow, Jones.”

“Gotcha, boss. Over.”

Jones pressed the open button. It lit but the door didn’t open. He opened the panel, and stared at melted wires. “Gotta blast it,” he decided, and moved to the corner at the end of the corridor. He aimed the pulse laser at the bridge door and fired. Nothing happened. He fired again. Still nothing. He pressed the diagnostic button. It blinked green at him. “Oh, oh¼,” he thought. “This is not a good sign.”

Something began drawing him towards the bridge door. “Boss, something’s pulling me towards the bridge.”

Another day downtown

The cool geometry of pool and neon clashed with the revelry that night. I stayed until 4, but it got too weird even for me. (I had lost $200 anyways) I toyed with going home, but I didn’t need the shit I’d get, so I went back to the bar for a beer and a few rounds of pool-strictly professional. I left with the sun and came out up $35. I was walking home & met J-the guy who threw the party. I asked him why he was out with a party under full throttle (without some control, these parties tended to explode-even the police stay away) He said “I recruited one of your housemates.” “How did you do that?” “She owed me a favor” “Which one and what kind of favor?” “Jan B and none of your business, nosy.” “Whatever-so what are you doing out anyways?” “Fresh air and some smokes” “Kool-I’ll be back. Later.” “Later.”

We walked our separate ways. I found out later that someone died and he was going to get a fixer.

Elizabeth is Gone

Loss, alienation and despair.

Words are imperfect pictures reflecting cloudy mental states.

Transient feelings, emotions, flutter across barren mental deserts of despair, illuminating black figures cloaked in sadness.

Misery clouds life with soupy fog, and searching for relief topples statues of former happiness, crashing life to emptiness.

Broken lights of optimism flash hard comfort and vanish.

Laughter and light appear, and are swallowed by gray indifference.

Love is lost in fog, disappearing as if never alive.

Three shadows arise, taking form from the darkness, appearing as voids and erasing all that exists around them.

Life slowly disappears as the shadows grow stronger, sucking light and energy from the life around them.

Finally, the shadows recedes, and all is black nothingness, a land where none can survive.

Dim tendrils of foggy sadness drift across a barren landscape of emptiness and loss.

Gray broken columns of former happiness loom large, then crumble under closer inspection.

The sun rises as a negative, engulfing light and life.

A gray mist descends, casting sorrow over twisted hills and sodden swamp.

As the mist engulfs the land, all color, light and happiness fades to a lifeless pallor, leaving nothing but ashes, broken hopes, shattered dreams and indifference.

Lightning bolts and arcs of pain flash across ancient scars and unopened wounds, illuminating shadows that flit and disappear in the darkness.

A mist of tears clouds the sky, carrying the sound of muffled sadness and clear light, shining in shafts, offering release and freedom from worldly tragedy.

Ice cold waves of anguish crash against black shores covered with the debris of past love, hearts and happiness.