Poem fragment

Twirling through inky soundless expanse of space,
listening to sizzling Saturnian lightning,
like frying eggs, underwater
I feel my bones
packed red sea-sand,
wrapped by a clear, thin vellum.

As I listen to screeching and wailing of
Saturn's rotation,
I feel the presence of gods.

Atheists claim gods do not exist
Theists insist their version must,
But I, agnostic, merely drift in space,
listening to the song of the universe.
To the drum and thrum of Vela Pulsar,
a frenetic tribal code,
The lilting birdsong
(or squeaking subway car brakes)
of Jupiter's magnetosphere.

And it is in the soundless dust rings
Of Saturn, that for the first time,
I hear the voice of Creation.

Fiction written as a reply to a blog post

Joshua Palmatier, author extraordinaire posted an entry on his live journal asking us how we would react to the end of the world. Rather than being sensible about it I wrote the following snippet below. It may live on, it may not.

Ten minutes ago the President went off line for the last time. The City power's been out for weeks, we knew that when we set up the generators. Our bigger problem is the three basics, fuel, food, ammo. Guns we have, everyone has those. Maybe one in thirty people know how to safely use a gun. But only so much ammo.

Last week was the worst. Downtown's gone. Most of the useful parts of the City are, burned up by the fire bugs. But life's going to get real tough for them too. There's only so much drugs, and they tend to make themselves prey to the Eaters.

Most Eaters are not that smart, and if you take a second to think, you can usually use the environment against them. Basic physics knowledge helps. We're walking out of the City, the fifty of us. No leader, no alpha males yet. Everyone with an ego, a chip on their shoulder, they went down in the beginning days.

The fires are making our decision for us. We have to get away from the winds, cause the fires do a better job than the Eaters or other crazies at taking people out. We have maybe a few hours. Me and Kara are moving out first, then the rest will follow a mile off the road. (1-25) In packs of ten. Rifle and ammo with every group, water carriers for all.

Lots of people drove on the road in the first weeks After, trying to get away. Some made it farther than others. No more gas stations though, so. The road is littered with cars, and further down, the bodies of the drivers. Somewhere out on that road is Joanna, and Deeg.

I've cried enough for them.

I retie my pack. Most of the stuff I got from the Mall south of here after looters took the most obvious stuff. It was an easy if harrowing trip, just take the elevated train line straight down, stay a hundred yards away from anything that moves bigger than a dog.

Socks, twenty pair of those.long sleeved shirts, pants. Extra boots, slightly big. Water bottles, boiling pot. Metal coffee thermos of rubbing alcohol. All the jerky I could find. Fire sparkers. Hand crank walkies. Bullets for the Beretta PX4. Bandages. Super glue packets, a roll of duct tape and scissors. 5 packs of needles and 4 spools white thread. Hand mirrors. Machetes, 3. Walking stick, which is really just a heavy, metal tube. That's all I have.

Realistically, I'm not going to make it farther than two hundred miles. But I'd rather die out there from sun sickness than be burned alive and eaten. Besides, rabbit looks to taste better than cat, anyway.

So, I'm leaving this note here. If things get back... if things ever become re-civilized, look for me near the dam where Vegas used to be.

NAME: ______________

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