Low Disk Space


“In the near future

Petrogenic tubes will allow us

To map each other’s hearts

And not in the sense of

Pulse, pressure, or saturation;

We will be able to translate “I forgot”

Into everything that was unsaid

And tease the edges of communion

Wrapping into ourselves.”

“You should have just returned my calls.

It’s a basic signalling game –

But this may be my favourite

Of all your fragile lies.”

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Spoken properly


In quizzing the precise meaning

Of words down to the quarter note

And noticing my eyes crinkling

And saying that I smelled

Of shampoo and diligence

You inadvertently named me

Then I felt how I had not

Been called by name before

Cameo Shadow


Back view of a woman  wearing a black gown

Forsake me, but I will keep

A cameo onyx and silver

Nestled among sheets

In my oaken chest

Then your shadow will not stray

From the foot of my bed, you

With your white face

And charcoal brow

Only remember me in donning

Your gown like a night river

And whisper in passing

A word for me

 

Of flowers past


Image result for summer wildflowers painting

Where light my darling coming

Through the white Queen’s lace and fetters

I see her love of shoot and sprig

Of loosestrife even as asters

Her mouth a bow of girlish charm

And her hands everywhere trailing

So she was many summers past

And so now I briefly see her

Better cast in my adoration

Than in all the sun’s rayed splendour

~

Elizabeth Cook, 2017

Image from Karen Margulis

CONDITIONAL HOLIDAYS ARE ALWAYS LESS THAN WHAT THEY SEEM (4/4)


Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

It felt like an age had passed while I was in the restroom. Yet it hadn’t been long enough. The older I get the less these conditional holidays seem like holidays at all, and more like work in disguise.

Lalantree?”

Reluctantly, I turned towards the voice and the mountains. Either it was my imagination or the twilight on that side of the plaza was deepening; shadows darkening the flowers among the scrub, and far above them, the pines and the crags. Someone had seen fit to leave a stone table on the grass not far from me, and its weathered scrollwork, and cracked surface, managed to convey forlornness amid the rest of this zytocoke1-fueled fantasy.

Mavind was sitting there, waiting for me with her cream self perched upon the faded grey, feet off the ground and legs swaying slightly. The table might as well have been placed for her. A creeper was growing up one leg. Continue reading “CONDITIONAL HOLIDAYS ARE ALWAYS LESS THAN WHAT THEY SEEM (4/4)”

CONDITIONAL HOLIDAYS ARE ALWAYS LESS THAN WHAT THEY SEEM (3/4)


Part 1

Part 2

I forged a path toward the washroom through the thinner bits of the crowd, conscious that my newfound powers in clearing away knots of people were 100% due to the Junoesque figure following me. And this, I realized, was one of the most exciting things that had happened on any of our CLPFC days; the expressions around us were awash with curiosity, shock, and delight. Everyone here would know that Ibrander’s date had jumped ship to Lalantree before lunch was served.

Trying to scan as many faces as possible without making eye contact (now this is a true art) I almost bumped into Loddi’s mum. This in spite of her neon floral mumu. “Oh, hello Lalantree. Loddi isn’t with you?”

No…” Mavind had come up close behind me, and Loddi’s mum did a double take. Continue reading “CONDITIONAL HOLIDAYS ARE ALWAYS LESS THAN WHAT THEY SEEM (3/4)”