[ notes preceding my death ]

InstaByte installment #120 01-24-2113

Episode.1.Final – InstaByte installment #120 01-24-2113

We now leave regular NanoNews programming for a live report from the Earth Corp Galactic News JournoPod, currently docked at Moonbase 9 Debriefing Section, where Vincent King brings you InstaByte installment #120 01-24-2113:

————->

Greetings citizens, Vincent King reporting.

Captain Dixon, of the starship Far Explorer III, recently returned from a 15 year journey to the largely unknown reaches of the universe, has made a remarkable discovery, and solved a mystery that has baffled scientists for seven decades.

An ever-expanding cluster of curious objects, just beyond known space, and about the size of our solar system, has turned out to be garbage. Our garbage.

The innocuous Ready Refuse Remover, used everywhere on earth, was originally touted as a disintegrator. Discovered by accident by E.V. Ready in 2100, it solved the near-disastrous conundrum posed by an unknowable accumulation of household waste.

Simply place the waste in the machine and, poof, gone. The same technology was used to rid us of our age-old industrial and nuclear waste.

But, as it turns out, the RRR is not a disintegrator, but a transporter. Our garbage has become a solar-system-sized mass spinning at the edge of the universe.

Scientists now believe that RRR technology can be applied to space travel. Experiments using low grade bio-gens creatures are already underway.

Interviewed after his debriefing, Dixon also commented on an unsettling “sense of being watched”, while navigating the Explorer III through what has been playfully dubbed the Celestial Dump.

“If I had to describe it”, said Dixon. “I would say it was like having my thoughts sifted. Made clearer. Each thought became entire. I felt a clarity unlike anything I have experienced.”

Doctors and scientists attribute Dixon’s “clarity” to the stress caused by a burst of brain activity after being in suspended animation for 15 years.

Dixon is not so certain. “It lasted for weeks,” he said. “I felt like a child being questioned by a parent. To a certain extent, the sense lingers to this day.”

Dixon has been suspended from active duty.

————->

This InstaByte installment has been brought to you by BioGen Robotics, household aids for a toil free future.

We now return you to regular NanoNews programming.

maybe

maybe
words are twigs
branched out
into poetry
maybe
a prose forest
of deep roots
that spread
to water
or maybe
only a bush
can survive here
twisted twigs
on snow whiter
than the page
a palimpsest
enduring til spring

Paz names
syllables seeds
pronouns are
from the garden
of Epicurus
verbs migrate
and nouns are
full of roots
the sea too
has sylablles
spells stars
the sun
fires a clause

and what of
shadows
the dark
light spells
the world
it still
speaks at night
the streets
that extend
to the edge
of vowels
and beyond
all reason

photograms/asemic writing

photogram2

photogram3

photogram4

computer game

computer game

[ larger image ]

number game

numbers game

[ larger image ]

Thai collage

collage 1a1

[ larger image ]

beginnings

bee gin nings

rdot signature file for John Hayes

small rdot

[ larger image ]

The signatures are from the 1970′s, in a large notebook where I wrote poems and lyrics, called ‘ravenznest’

I also have a notebook from that time where I noted my days with blurbs and poems. It was given to me by my ex-wife Karen and is from her workplace ( A RECORDS book, Federal Supply Service, 7530-00-222-3525 – will this get me spidered by the folks at NSA?).

Back then and for several years afterward I signed written work with a small r followed by a period (dot). My friend John Hayes got to calling me ‘rdot’, a form of endearment. Decades later: the above piece of asemic writing is dedicated to John.

now

write something you understand
it’s all you ever asked of me
enough of dense abstractions
no packed metaphors in view

I learned very early on
that this road skirts failure
that nothing is ever finished
we are mixed with the rest

a multiplication of bones
in less than a handshake
memory pressed on a grater
a mound of shredded tales

our calm and windy years past
remember the Czech artist
with hourglass and blackboard
his chalk marks lasted longer

The Red Pillowcase

In the documentary about poets
I notice the pillow on your lap

I know pillows from my affliction
the comfort of something soft

We share that pillow of comfort
across this vast distance

My pillowcase is also the colour red
the colour of blood exposed to air

We share a compromised atmosphere
it circles round our torn world

for Hala Mohammad