Some of the fish down there had teeth like big needles, and a lot had spots or stripes on their sides that glowed red, yellow, or green. I saw an eel that looked like a rope on fire, and some other scary things, and finally I asked the Aelfmaidens if this was where they lived, because it did not seem to me that anybody would if they could live anywhere else.
--
Gradually all the noise trailed off into a sound like a giant asleep, like Gilling dying down there in a bed as big as a lot of people's houses. The rock stopped flowing up and got hard. We went up to look, and it was a whole island of rock with a sort of basin in the middle. Some seabirds had started nesting there, and the sea lapped at the gray-rock beach all around it like a cat laps cream.
--The Knight by Gene Wolfe
Beautiful Spot For a Power Converter. Thank you, city council.
Saw sights afterschool today.
At least twelve full-grown turkeys at the park by my house.
Was difficult to get a good shot because they kept running away. They're pretty fast, too.
King of Thanksgiving. No one ever thanks him.
Sunshinebrushfire by my cousin's house. Actually quite pretty.
Blogs make you want to start taking pictures of everything.
And one more. Composed during Women's Literatue; on a sheet of lyrics for a fucking Tracy Chapman song. Eeek.
Avoid a Void
Garage cats ignite the sky,
counseling collegiate comets into admission.
So why slay?
Upon impact, flow of oil is severed guided towards the cabled tier
and ashen volcanobirds.
She said, "Let the minotaurs prance freely through their artificial shadows."
Lightblade cannot guide without the withering roar and roam of colossi.
So why slay?
The hexing howl of warlike mice slicing kings on rain pavillions,
spawns carved sea caverns as lands of tides launch leviathans
through bomb-clustered clouds.
So why slay?
Tone of voice, quivering through soundblasts of screaming flowers
and jetstreams,
crested within the loud heat of the Mojave.
Solitude.
Unkempt.
So why slay?
No comments:
Post a Comment