30 Days of Poetry (a found poem)

"30 Days of Poetry (a found poem)"

Today I write a letter to my cat
and to poetry.

Dear Said,

Did you know that Teaching
and Writing Fiction in the Rain
can lead to one of the Seven Deadly Sins - Pride:
thinking back on my BA in Discovery, I
consider the Soulless Mirror and The Dream
of Cosmic Horrors that live on the Lyndale & Hennepin Ave Exit
reminding me of the movie Cthulhu (2007) and how
Pluto is no longer one of the nine.

This Earth Day 2009, please consider The Dream
of Dust and keep the Party going With a Kiss
in Spanish that was Thrice Stolen from the Twins-span
and the hippy Coop Whores.

Now you may be wondering how all this stated back
on April 1, 2009: Minneapolis, Minnesota?

Well, I rolled a d20
and failed my Google 411 check
alerting the One and the other
that his Securities had been breached
by a Wallet picking poet singing

"artists all, artists all, artists all,
Yeah Right!!!"

Rounded Up by PS Publishing

I was rounded up by PS Publishing for my review of STARFALL by Stephen Baxter in the Wednesday reviews roundup for 29th April.

Rain

"Rain"

hidden in down pours,
malignant horrors consume
discarded whishes

PICKMAN’S MODEL by H. P. Lovecraft

I have never read “Pickman’s Model” before today. I was shocked to find that my most recent short story, I’m revising it now, is closely related. It was not my intention to write a story so close in relation. I merely wanted to write a story that included the Lovecraft Mythos and art. I did not know that the character of Pickman was a visual artist, as it the main character of my story; however, in my story, the visual artist make his living as a tattoo artist in Minneapolis, and instead of a model, he is painting skin with his horrific visions of The Dreamlands.

I wasn’t delude enough to believe that my story would be completely original, who’s are any more, but I thought that I would have at least stumbled upon something that the master himself hadn’t explored. Anyway, I will not let that keep me from revising my story and completing it. I still believe, selfishly so, that I have something to contribute to the ever expanding fiction derivative of Lovecraft’s original works of cosmic horror.

“Pickman’s Model” is a great story for a cloudy, sunless day. The story is a conversation between the narrator and his friend Elliot, who listens intently to the narrator’s experience in New England’s weird art scene.

The narrator and Pickman become fast friends through their common understanding of art’s strange ability to depict reality in away that celebrates it, but equally condemns it through grotesque comparisons. Expanding on their friendship, Pickman offers the narrator the opportunity to join him in his artist’s refuge to view those paintings too strange for even the weird art scene.

Pickman’s refuge is a broken down shack with boarded up windows in a long forgotten neighborhood left to squalor and squatters. He chose this specific location because it had cellar with an earthen floor and an exposed well opening that had been bricked up. These wells were all over the city and contained energies that inspired the open and keenly sensitive mind into creative frenzies.

In the refuge, the narrator experiences Pickman’s paintings with a revolution so acute that it elicits a most girlish scream that wakens something dire within the cellar that provides a most import insight into the realist work of Pickman. This thing that is wakened is the model for Pickman’s mix of human features with those of a slick skinned canine.

You can read it here: Pickman's Model

Listen to it here: Pickman’s Model

Note: The narrator mentions that he is familiar with the work of Clark Aston Smith, a contemporary horror writer and frequent correspondent of Lovecraft’s.

Lovecraft, H. P. , “Pickman’s Model.” The Dream Cycle of H. P. Lovecraft: Dreams of Terror and Death . New York: Del Rey , 1995, 94 – 105

Spanish

"Spanish"

Brushing up on español
with Spanish Phrase of the Day

I spot Déjate los mocos.

Stop picking your boogers 

THE HOUND by H. P. Lovecraft

I found a great podcast last night while searching itunes with the keywords H. P. Lovecraft called Cthulhu. The podcast is free and broadcasts the fiction of H. P. Lovecraft and the authors daring enough to contribute the Mythos.

I down loaded as many as I could last night and added them to my ipod to listen to in the car during my commute. This morning, I started with the first podcast, “The Hound,” a story that I was meaning to read this week anyway because if its reference to that horrific tome, the Necronomicon.

“The Hound” is a good story and I enjoyed FNH’s reading. The addition of creepy 20’s music added the mystique of the audio production. A team of professional grave robbers, archeologists, Tomb Raider like adventurers, have unearth a magnificent find filled with loot from a time long since past. Among these treasures was a sarcophagus containing the grotesque remains of skeleton that had appeared to have been crushed in such a manner to resemble the crushing blows of some large beast. Around the neck of the skeleton was a jade amulet carved to resemble a sphinx, except that this sphinx resembled a dog with bat like wings.

Being greedy looters, they recognized it as an object that would bring them great wealth. However, they also noticed a strange inscription along the base of the amulet in a language they recognized as similar to that in the Necronomicon with which they were familiar.

Soon after the recovery of the amulet, strange events and happenings began to plague their campsite. In darkness of night, they could hear the distinct howling of some strange breed of dog. They quickly decided to break camp, burning it and much of the loot to the ground in a distraction to make their escape. However, the amulet was rescued and taken from the site.

If you haven’t guessed, this story does not turn out well for the looters. They have awakened something dark and evil, and attracted to the amulet.

Read it here: The Hound

Listen to here: The Hound

Lovecraft, H. P., “The Hound.” The Dream Cycle of H. P. Lovecraft: Dreams of Terror and Death. New York: Del Rey, 1995, 79 – 85.

Inside the Blogosphere: What is your reviewing process?

I contributed to the latest Inside the Blogosphere: What is your reviewing process? Go check it out.

Teaching

"Teaching"

ups and
downs
the emotional ups
and downs

am I teaching them anything useful
that they will use on the line
hot line, chopping, cutting, grilling
serving

one day down
one day up
next day down
the rollercoaster ride
stops down

do they listen, can they remember
to see with open eyes
critically, the world is full of
message

up
i want to stay up
down
they bring me down

Party

“Party”

I’m not one for parties
stuck in a corner alone, drinking
water because I’m the driver

Last night’s Birthday blast
was different. I had fun.
People wanted to talk to me
Hang with me, and it wasn’t wired,
it was fun.

I had one beer
5 waters
and left before the raffle

I was asked to stay
I was wished farewell
this never happens to me

I’m the guy that ruins parties
I’m the Debbie-Downer, 

the mature one, but
last night was different,

not that I got crazy, I don't

really do crazy.

I hope, I hope that I’m not
becoming social or something worse
because last night was a lot, a lot
of fun.

Writing Fiction

I've been attacked by the fiction bug. I'm 1500 words into a new story. If I follow through, it will be the first full draft of a new story that I've written since finishing my MFA. So, forgive another bad poem.

"Writing Fiction"

the thing comes on like a dream

right out of hell 

characters will not quite 

they are like cancer

the plot thick like depression 

fire on the brain 

details, details, where are the details

like rain

i can't type fast enough to caputre 

the maddness 

Necronomicon (1993)

This is the full 1993 feature film.

Lyndale & Hennepin Ave Exit

“Lyndale & Hennepin Ave Exit”

in the trees I see them sleeping
by the side of the road they dream

dream of houses and beds and food
on corners they hold out hands for something to eat

eat the american dream and choke
eat the american dream and choke
eat the american dream and choke
choke, choke, choke, CHOKE

by the side of the road they sleep
in tress dreaming of food

food, houses, beds, and their families
on corners flagging us down for something to eat

eat the american dream and choke
eat the american dream and choke
eat the american dream and choke
choke, choke, choke, CHOKE

on corners they hold out hands for something to eat

choke

by the side of the road they sleep

choke

choke on the american dream
and choke

eat the american dream and choke
eat the american dream and choke
eat the american dream and choke
choke, choke, choke, CHOKE

on corners
they flag us down
for something to eat

all we ever do is choke

STARFALL by Stephen Baxter

“Starfall,” from the orbital mind of Stephen Baxter, is a masterpiece of epic space opera, which is due out soon from PS Publishing, the “Award-winning, UK-based, independent publisher of sf, fantasy, horror, crime and more...” (PS Publishing). I just finished this novella and I’m still in a daze trying to absorb a plot that spans decades, generations, star systems, and a mathematical obscurity that has trapped a time traveler from 900 years in the future in AD 4771. To get my mind around it, I think that a voice over for a non-existent movie trailer is necessary:

In a star system 49 nine years out from Earth, between Sol and Alpha Centauri, the hope of all humanity rests in a few out dated GUTdrive starships guided by the brilliant rebel leader Flood. Flood must assemble this haphazard fleet into an armada to challenge Earthworm defensives. The Earthworms know not what incubates bellow the Earth’s crust and in the molten mantel due to the mad scheming of Shira, the Empress of Sol and the known universe. Will Food be in time to save the human race? Will he be able to slip past Captain Stillich and his brilliant First Officer Pella? Why is Flood and the rebellion willing to sacrifice billions to dethrone Shira? And why entrust an Earth born soldier with the terrible task of piloting the Fist, the last ditch suicidal effort that would set humanity back centuries in devastation?

There is a lot of story packed into this 89-page novella, a story of galactic war full of intricate battle plans and last minute strategy that will consume you, pull you through the plot, as a black hole devours time and space. Told from multiple perspectives that keep you guessing as the story unfolds, you are transported into a multi-world future that doesn’t know the danger that exists in a shimmering pool of mathematical possibilities that resides in one of Earth most protected bunkers deep be bellow one its most populous cities.

One of those perspectives is that of Densel Bel, born on Earth, family on Footprint (one of the distant colonies between Sol and Alpha Centauri), and fiercely loyal to both. Densel is captain of Fist Two, one of the GUTdrive starships on a suicidal, kamikaze mission to impact with Earth at speeds never before recorded in Sol, an impact speculated to devastate an entire hemisphere. He is a man of conviction and steadfast, a hero who to his children who will never understand his sudden disappearance and abduction from Footprint where he lived a life of love, but also a life of lies as Suber, waiting to be abducted for just this type of mission. Densel is thrust into Flood’s plot against Shira, which is already fully in motion. Little does he know, he will be instrumental in Earth’s final salvation.

Meanwhile, Sol’s finest speculative strategists are preparing for the eventuality of an imminent threat from the furthest reaches of space. Captain Stillich and his First Officer Pella lead the defense preparations. Using fiber optic cable from a distant past and hardware recovered from museums, Earth will re-wire to ensure a communication infrastructure and global security. They must puzzle out a way to stop GUTdrive starships traveling at impact speeds and ensure against unknown rebels that might or might not already be on their way.

Besides the human drama, Baxter includes the perspective of smart viruses that ride and multiple within the beauty of a comet. They are hungry. They are chaos. They only know that the one named Flood has promised them a world plentiful of food and complex systems in which to flush. And so they wait, and they pray to Flood, for the promised land that is come.

Baxter’s novella is hinged upon the idea of the imagination. It isn’t what we know that can hurt us. We can plan and prepare for what we know. It is what “None of us can imagine—” (51) that will be our undoing. The idea that we must speculate and plan for the unknown and what seems truly impossible is one that all governments must undertake in the name of security. However, what if the thing the nation must be protected from does not come from without, but from within, and what if that thing is the nation’s leader? What then? What then?

You don’t want to miss this epic battle to save humanity. Prep-order you copy now.

Baxter, Stephen. “Starfall.” PS Publishing, 2009

Seven Deadly Sins - Pride

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Low
Sloth:	Medium
Envy:	Low
Lust:	Medium
Pride:	High

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

I saw this quiz on Fantasy & Sci-Fi Lovin' News & Reviews

"Pride"

I am.

I rock it hard.

I take it sky high.

I am.

I make the party.

I get you off.

I am.

I drive real fast.

I light the fire.

I am.

I move your body.

I cruise your sea.

I am.

I fly your kite.

I set your sale.

I am.

I make it happen.

I get it done.

I am.

I send up rockets.

I capture the flag.

I am. I am. I am.

I stop.

Earth Day 2009

“Earth Day 2009”

O! Where has our natural capital gone?

Where are the trees that recycle
our air as they breath deeply in
spring as leaves burst forth from buds?

O! Where has our natural capital gone?

Where is the dark rich soil that grows
our food and cycles death
into life?

O! Where has our natural capital gone?

Where is the clean water that refreshes
the body and provides habitat
to aquatic splendors?

O! Where has our natural capital gone?

Where are the species that surprise
us with color and beauty,
not to mention potential remedies and cures?

O! Won’t you tell me,
where has natural capital gone?

Cosmic Horrors

“Cosmic Horrors”

from beyond the outer ring
the darkness between stars sing
praises to our yellow king

writers, painters, sculptures, compose his cult,
crating masterpieces that bring men’s minds to a halt,
with imagery of Carcosa’s scars filled with sea salt

the mind is a fragile thing with depths deeper than the darkest pool
in which the entire universe is contained with silver spool
and twined together by the dancing fool

sights so dim and bleak
move as quickly as a streak
can be missed in a blink

cosmic horrors all around
some up in the sky others under ground
seek to be left unfound

still we seek to unravel the great mysteries
as if they were some sweet pastries
instead we loose our minds to the grotesque masteries

NYARLATHOTEP by H. P. Lovecraft

I’ve been curious about the character of Nyarlathotep (Mr. Arkham) from the “Fall of Cthulhu” graphic novels. In “Fall of Cthulhu,” Nyarlathotep is the main antagonist, the big-bad, if you will, who is out to merge The Dreamlands with the reality in which humans occupy. He sets events in motion by resurrecting the mad prophet, Abdul Alhazred, so that new pages might be added to the Necronomicon to, in a sense, rewrite history.

The “Fall of Cthulhu” graphic novels are horrifically drawn (I mean that in the best way possible, and by horrific, I am superb), mind crippling, and above all else, well plotted by Michael Alan Nelson. You don’t want to miss out on this hell ride.

My curiosity about Nyarlathotep led me to pick up the one Lovecraft anthology published by Del Rey that I was missing. It also means that I have duplicate and even triplicate copies of some stories and still don’t have a complete collection. I’m going to pause for a second: Publishing world, what’s up. Why is there not a complete works of Lovecraft available? If you have to, to make a profit, break it into volumes, so that you can also include his poetry, please do. I will by each in both hardcover (for the collection) and in paperback (readers copies). Just do it, please!

Okay, back to the story, “Nyarlathotep.” It is a short, two and a half page story about a traveler who is, as rumor has it, a dark god out of the depths of Egypt. Everywhere Nyarlathotep has traveled and put on his gruesome mystical performance, madness, murder, and chaos have followed in his wake.

The story is told from the perspective of a non-believer attending one of Nyarlathotep’s shows. This non-believer is a man of science and, as he puts it, of stronger stock than most. So, when Nyarlathotep calls forth dancing lights and cracking thunder, the non-believer shouts fraud, claiming the trick a simple use of static electricity.

Nyarlathotep by force of will repels everyone out of the performance area.

On the non-believer’s way out, he begins to slip into what must be The Dreamlands. He sees things that no mortal mind can fathom. He does not have time to convert before he is sucked into madness by witnessing the composite evil that is Nyarlathotep’s soul.

The story is good. If you are a fan, you’ll enjoy it. I just wish there was more to it. I guess that it where “Fall of Cthulhu” come into play. So far, I am happy with how Michael Alan Nelson has expanded upon this aspect of The Cthulhu Mythos.

Read it here: Nyarlathotep

Lovecraft, H. P., “Nyarlathotep.” The Dream Cycle of H. P. Lovecraft: Dreams of Terror and Death. New York: Del Rey, 1995, 52 – 54.

One and the other

“One and the other”

One thing is not like the other,
but they are the same.

One lives under a roof and eats
three lavish meals a day. The other
eats handouts and charity.

One drives. The other walks.

One sees but chooses not to act, while
the other’s agency is impaired.

One thinks. The other reacts.

One believes in good will and a God
who loves and accepts all. The other sees
humanities inability to accept and give love.

One knows what must be done
but is selfish. The other is also selfish.

The other could work, but won’t, while
One puts in 50 to 60 hours a week.

The other knows One will stop
and handout the window crisp bills
or bag lunches.

The other sings songs under the star. One watches
the news and writes letters to local politicians
and spurs action and change.

The other keeps company with the squirrels. One
hosts parties.

The other moves from city to city like the wind
always moving, always bringing storms. One listens
to the weather and plans accordingly.

The other is covered in blue torn canvas and leather.
One alternates between tweed, silk, polyester and
100% cotton.

The other is content.
One wants.

BA in Discovery

“BA in Discovery”

I should be the last to complain
about a spelling error.

I have a lot of trouble with words,
they don’t sound right on the page
or skipping off my tongue.

Words are difficult. I have a master’s
in words, as if a degree could make up
for the number of spelling and replacement
errors that can be found in my early drafts, and even
in some of my completed works.

I’m a facility member now. I must hold myself
to a higher standard for my student’s sake, but
I have trouble on the fly, at the white board I miss
spell words that my students tell me a fourth grader
would know.

When I teach irony to my students, I use myself
as an example. Chastised and humiliated at a young age
about my speech, my writing, and above all else,
my spelling. Now, I have three degrees in English:

BA, Creative Writing
BA, Rhetoric & Discourse
MFA, Writing

So, when I see, for the first time, my name
in a college graduation program, under which
are listed my degrees, a smile quickly recedes
to a frown of frustration.

It seems that I did not major in ‘Rhetoric & Discourse’
but something called, ‘Rhetoric & Discovery.’

I wanted to mail copies of the program to my parents,
my college and graduate school professors. That dream
was dashed upon someone else’s carelessness, a carelessness
I know all to well, a carelessness that I fully understand, but

don’t.

The Dream - NY Times

TECHNOLOGY / INTERNET
Public Provides Giggles; Bloggers Get the Book Deal
By JENNA WORTHAM
Published: April 18, 2009
Publishers are hoping that millions of page views on a blog will translate into booming sales on the bookstand.

The Dream

Okay. So, The Soulless Machine Review is a hobby, and with each new review, I feel that I improve my style and the quality of the content. I do it for fun. I do it because I love short fiction and there aren’t many other sites (blogs) that truly review individual short stories, as if they were just as important as novels. They are you know, short stories, they are just as important as novels, if not more important, especially in an age of shorter and shorter attention spans.

The dream of publishing my short stories is still alive. I might have jumped the gun a little with posting my collection online: Keeping Watch: and other short stories. However, I felt that I wanted these out in the world regardless of publisher approval. It will also force me to target markets, write stories, my kind of stories, that better fit a specific journal. This ought to increase my success rate.

Beyond my own stories, I have a new dream, a dream that I would someday be contacted by a publisher or a journal to read short fiction for them, help select top stories for publication, and earn an ‘editor’ credit line. Better yet, a publisher would ask me to create "The Soulless Machine," a collection of short fiction from my review blog, to be published as an anthology. Here is a short list for such an anthology:

OBITUARY by Alexandra Wolfe
CTHULHU’S NIGHTMARE by Bric Barnes
THE CHATHAM BEAR by Mathias B. Freese
BONE SIGH by Tim Pratt
CLOCKWORK by Trent Jamieson
RADIODEMONOLOGY by John Medaille
PERIODS by Florence Ann Marlowe
BENT, NOT BROKEN by William R. Potter
MAY 18, 2010 by William R. Potter
REGENCY SPRITE by Dave Freer
FERRY TRAFFIC by Aidan Moher
NEEDLES by Jens Rushing
NO RIGHT by Jens Rushing
MUDCOLORED BEAUTIES OF THE PLAINS by Alicia Conroy
NO FACE by Junot Diaz
SCROOGLED by Cory Doctorow
WAR NO. 81-Q by Cordwainer Smith
SQ by Ursula Le Guin
THE SCHOOL by Donald Barthelme
TV PEOPLE by Haruki Murakami
MICHAEL IN ANTARCTICA by Kim Stanley Robinson
MASON’S RATS by Neal Asher
A CASE OF CONSILIENCE by Ken MacLeod
DEUS EX HOMINE by Hannu Rajaniemi 

Down boy, down, for now, those dreams go back on the shelf, and I must return to grading student papers

Twins-span

“Twins-span”

Take me out to the—
standup, sit down, standup, excuse me please
where no one watches the ball game
instead they run down the stairs, up
the stairs with hot dogs, beer, more beer, got
to go pee, “I’m bored. Can we cruse the mezzanine
for ice cream, candy, guys?” ball game, ball game
I came to watch the ball game, not
the hairy overweight ass crack version of Old Faithful,
the ball game, where the Twins Win! The Angles
loose the ball game to ADD & ADHD & short
twins-span.

Wallet

“Wallet”

Who am I? Where am I? Who am I?
Full of plastic and paper and arbitrarily assigned values
of spend, spend, pick up cat food, wanton wrappers
from the G-store—

a place full of meat, soda pop, and donuts
and I can’t buy any of it—

“I.D.” the officer asks.
I have to say, “sorry, left it at work,
I’m going there now, it is just around the corner.
Can you follow me?” Got it—

the G-store is cool and the isles are full of
temptations—

the vet is busy and there is a large purple
hound of some kind, stands as high as my waist
and wants to lick my face—

I’m home now. I have it all, except for that hour
lost on the second go around.

ARTHUR JERMYN by H. P. Lovecraft

“Arthur Jermyn” or “Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family” contains one of the best opening paragraphs that I’ve come across. The opening accomplishes everything that a good opening should. It is a teaser for the rest of the story. Yes, it might give away the ending, but it does so in such a way that you are intrigued, no too passive, you are sucked into the train wreck that follows. My favorite line from the opening is: “Life is a hideous thing, and from the background behind what we know of it peer daemoniacal hints of truth which make it sometimes a thousandfold more hideous” (59). Lovecraft was always such an optimist.

Just like in “The Shadow over Innsmouth,” the main character is on a journey to discover his genealogical roots. There is some mystery concerning Arthur Jermyn’s distant relatives, and there has always been something uneasy and grotesque in the physical appearance of the Jermyns. Also, a certain odd slowness has plagued them since Arthur’s great-great-great-grandfather, Sir Wade Jermyn. You can see good depiction of Arthur’s Family Tree following that link. 

The Jermyn family has had a strange relationship to an old and forgotten section of the African Congo that started with Sir Wade Jermyn, an early explorer of that area, dating back to the late 1700s. Ever since Sir Wade Jermyn’s explorations, each of the male descendants has gone in search of the strange ruins of a mythological race of white apes that stand tall with little fur. These white apes were said to worship the great white good that miraculously appeared one day and took for his wife the most beautiful of their kind. This white god was said to have stayed with them for sometime before departing; also, he was said to make infrequent return visits, but did return on occasion.

Each of the Jermyn sons has felt drawn to the Congo like salmon returning from the deep sea to spawn in the fresh water where they were hatched. So to Arthur Jermyn, even though he was less inflicted with the Jermyn features and academic slowness, Arthur Jermyn was scholar and poet. Arthur was the first true thinker in several generations. However, even though he was accomplished, he felt the pull of the Congo and went in search of the place detailed Sir Wade Jermyn’s travel logs.

While in the Congo, he came across a knowledgeable elder and hunter who told him the remarkable tale of the white god and the ape-goddess. In his story, this elder clamed to know the whereabouts of the stuffed edifice of the princess because it was his tribe that had killed the last of the strange beings to inhabit the ruins. He had then hidden it away from seeing eyes.

Arthur Jermyn quickly requested that the ape-goddess forwarded to his home. It was the content of this package, once arrived and opened, that caused him to run scream from his house, douse himself in gas, and set himself a blaze. His fragile artist’s mind could not reconcile the contents of the box with the details of his family’s genealogical tree.

Great story! Read it here: Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family

Lovecraft, H. P., “Arthur Jermyn.” The Transition of H. P. Lovecraft: The Road to  Madness. New York: Del Rey, 1996, 59 – 67.

The E.P.A.’s List

This one is awful. Please feel free to skip.


A List of the Most Wanted, by the E.P.A.
By CORNELIA DEAN
Published: April 6, 2009
Complete with mug shots, the Environmental Protection Agency’s list of fugitives was established to draw attention to serious environmental crimes.

“The E.P.A.’s List”

Omran Alghazouli,

You are wanted by the EPA
for fouling our environment!

How could you smuggle R-12
Freon in from Mexico? Think
of the ozone.

Mahmoud Almhchie,

You are wanted by the EPA
for fouling our environment!

What were you planning on doing
with 105 30lbs cylinders of death? Think
of the biomes.

Wendell Baptiste,

You are wanted by the EPA
for fouling our environment!

How long will it take the water that you polluted
to recover and again be drinkable? Think
of the thirsty.

Albania Deleon,

You are wanted by the EPA
for fouling our environment!

They’re not safe from asbestos, they’re not fully trained,
but thanks to you they’re certified. Think
of the children.

For more information, see: The E.P.A.’s List

Clean My Human

"Clean My Human"
by Said

my human, he's so dirty
how he get so dirty?

wait, my human is so tasty
he tastes like, like
wonderful food stuff, you know
the stuff out of the can that I like.

Ooo, he tastes soo good, one,
two, three, four, O! one, two, three,
they all taste good.

THE BOOK by H. P. Lovecraft

“The Book” is an odd short story perhaps pertaining to that horrific tome, The Necronomicon. There is no title for the narrator to relate to the reader, “the early pages were missing” (34). The pages of the book were not typed, but hand written suggesting a rare value.

The narrator rushes home to uncover its secrets. The book is filled with strange drawings, hand gestures, and incantations. He attempts them and is transported out of his body and into a realm full of knowledge most horrifying and evil.

On his return trip to our purely mundane plain of existence, for it must surly be that in comparison to those alien landscapes, he gains a sinister shadow. A shadow that spooks lesser creatures and angers dogs as he pass them on the street.

The one thing that our narrator knows for sure is that he must be careful during his out of body quests and in his use of those grotesque incantations. If his is not careful, he may end up separated from his body forever. His consciousness free, without anchor, potential food for those alien denizens of the secret depths.       

Read it here: The Book

Lovecraft, H. P., “The Book.” The Transition of H. P. Lovecraft: The Road to Madness. New York: Del Rey, 1996, 34 – 36.

The Dream

“The Dream”

Once upon a time,
there was young man obsessed with H. P. Lovecraft’s stories
who wanted to write dark tales of cosmic horror
that with their reading riots and delusions would ensue.

He hears Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn in his sleep.

This young man soon grew up, 

attended Beloit College for his BA in Creative Writing
and Hamline University for his Writing Masters. He wrote
a couple good yarns including Lovecraft’s Mythos. One
such story is about a bike messenger who sees elder signs
and creepy graffiti in downtown Minneapolis, MN.

He hears Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn in his sleep.

Still, Lovecraft haunts the master writer’s dreams. He
is seeks out all things Lovecraftian, comic, games, movies,
everything. He must see it all, like one of Lovecraft’s doomed
characters he searches out dangerous knowledge that will
no doubt someday break his mind.

He hears Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn in his sleep.

This writer want’s nothing more than to spend all his days
consumed with Lovecraft’s work. The dream to teach his writing,
or to help build a ‘complete works of’ edition, is always at
the back of his mind. At the very least, this writer hopes his reviews
will help keep the horror alive.

He hears Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn in his sleep.

Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhatgn!

THE SHADOW OVER INNSMOUTH by H. P. Lovecraft

I’ve been watching Lovecraft inspired movies lately. Just last week, I watched Cthulhu, a retelling of “The Shadow over Innsmouth” and thoroughly enjoyed it. This week I’m going to see Dagon, another retelling of “The Shadow over Innsmouth,” but mixed with the short story “Dagon.” It has been a long time since I’ve read “The Shadow over Innsmouth,” and the movie Cthulhu had some interesting plot points that I didn’t remember. So, over the weekend, I reread the story.

The story is amazing, likely the best of Lovecraft’s stories. The story begins with a young man on summer break from college. He is traveling the east coast seeking out the architectural wonders of the area as well as trying to uncover some of his family’s obscured genealogical past. His research and adventuring takes him to Newburyport where he hears local rumors about a forgotten town that the railroad purposefully choose to circumvent while laying track. The only way into or out of town is to take a buss, more van than buss really, that arrives and departs twice daily.

Being a curious and adventuring young lad, he makes inquires about Innsmouth and hear some remarkable things, including the extreme labors of the locals to ensure that they remain secluded from the rest of the great state of Main and humanity. The locals only venture out of Innsmouth to sell their catches of fish and crab. Nothing that our young adventurer hears can dissuade him from taking the bus, but being prudent does wait until the next day not wanting to lodge over night such a place.

While in the town of Innsmouth, he notices that the people seem dispossessed and strange. They are grayish in color, have flat-ish heads, thick lips on mouths that seem too wide, large unblinking watery eyes, and some posses deep painful looking striations along the sides of their necks. The people of Innsmouth are grotesque in appearance and of sent, a chocking, pungent aroma of decaying fish.

Nearing the end of what should have been a quick trip to view the Innsmouth architecture, our narrator spots Zadok Allen, a person of great historical interest who might have some insight into what has transpired in this shadowed town. Bribed with a bottle of bootleg whisky, Zadok’s memory of events best forgotten are opened. These memories surround Devil’s Reef, just off the coast. There strange and horrible things transpired (which you will have to read the story to find out).

After Zadok is finished with his tale of mythological horror, it is too late to leave Innsmouth. Our narrator must lodge at the local hotel, a run down place, where he had to manually replace the lock on his door. Not long after he had taken to the bed, still fully dressed, he hears someone working the lock on his door, trying to force their way in. A bizarre room to room chase ensues (which is one of the best parts of Call of Cthulhu: Dark Corners of the Earth video game, which is also based on both “Dagon” and “The Shadow over Innsmouth”) that sees him out the window and running for his life.

The best part of the story, besides the section with Zadok, is the very end. Our narrator is inspecting more genealogical information about his family. He discovers that … Sorry, I’m not going to spoil it for you. Read it.

The last thing that I want to mention is that it seems the movie interpretations of “The Shadow over Innsmouth” could do better to stick to ordinal story. There is plenty for any director and script writer to work with. However, both seem intent on telling a different story, the story of our narrator’s grandfather’s disappearance, which receives minimal reference. In my opinion, there is still room for a true-to-the-story movie version of “The Shadow over Innsmouth.” I have high hopes for Dagon this week. I hope it does not disappoint.

Read it here: The Shadow Over Innsmouth

Lovecraft, H. P., “The Shadow over Innsmouth.” The Best of H.P. Lovecraft: Bloodcurdling Tales of Horror and the Macabre. New York: Del Rey, 1982. p. 246 – 295

Soulless Mirror

"Soulless Mirror"


Months ago—

my desk, we moved as part of a bigger project—

books, so many memories gone—

into a corner where I must face myself, face myself, face myself, facing up to all my imperfections, all my self-loathing as I surf the many pages of carnality, my tattoos my only shied against the pale reflection of a flabby, hairy body—

sold in bagfuls to used book stores, if they would take them, some no doubt will make their way into the hands of readers while others collect dust and rot unopened like eggs not cooled or warmed—

when I write, I must first conquer the glimmer in my eyes, the lust for acceptance, the horror of loneliness, and the desire for love, only then can I begin, pounding keys and creating worlds one memory at a time—

the void is the human mind, I must conquer—

the terror of reflection—

today.

Dust

"Dust"

dust, dust everywhere
little bits of things and cat hair
on the counters and on the floors
under the couch and between electric cords
I just wish that I had more energy
to fight, fight, fight thee
with broom, swifter, and mop
I’ve thought about buy a roomba-like cop
to jail the sand and lint as it appears
but the poor thing would likely bust its gears
I guess I’m stuck spending at least one day
a week cleaning, just wish it wasn’t Saturday

BATTLE OF THE BROADS MN ROLLERGIRL 2009 FINAL BOUT

The Minnesota RollerGirls finals were tonight.

#1 Rockits 92
vs
#2 Garda Belts 31

#3 Atomic Bombshells 79
vs
#4 Dagger Dolls 50

The Brawl of America in September 2009 is too far away and summer too long. Until then, check out these highlights from the finals:

COUNTING DOWN TO THE END OF THE UNIVERSE by Sara Genge

I was reading Adventure in Reading’s post get some free Shimmer about Shimmer Magazine giving away Issue 10 free and decided to check it out.

“Counting Down to the End of the Universe” by Sara Genge caught my attention right away. The title made it sound like an apocalypse waiting to happen or a play on “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.” To my delight, it was neither of those things, instead it was a story about the limits of technology to extend human life.

The main character is an old man who likes to work with his hands. He is the inventor of the life extending technology. The trouble with his technology is that, yes, you do live forever, but the body still decays around the gizmos that keep it going. From the precise descriptions of his condition, it sounds like he has a case of advanced leprosy. Except in his case, each dropped piece of flesh still transmits feeling and consciousness back to the body.

The story is good and I will be puzzling over the ramifications of dispersing consciousness throughout every cell of the body as I write my novel.

Issue 10: Read it free!

Genge, Sara. “Counting Down to the End of the Universe.” Salt Lake City, UT: Shimmer Magazine, Issue 10.

With a Kiss

“With a Kiss”

with a kiss
I say, “I do.”

Cthulhu (2007)

“Cthulhu 2007: a movie review poem”


Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhtagn!
a retelling of the H. P. Lovecraft
story “The Shadow over Innsmouth”
about the ‘Esoteric Order of Dagon’

Innsmouth is a backwater port town
a fishing town to which the oldest and only Marsh
male must return for the March Matriarch
has died and is to be put in the ground

Russell Marsh is a professor and chair of history
long exiled from Innsmouth, never wishing to return,
his father is the local priest of the ‘Esoteric Order of Dagon’
and can not accept that his son is gay and rejects their ancestry

The father needs an heir to complete his journey
on May 1, of his 50th year, a son should be conceived
to allow the Marsh line to continue when the Patriarch
of the family is called back to in the churning sea

My favorite part of the movie is when Russell goes
into the abandoned estate and sees all the names
of the town including his best friend and some times
lover, but now Russell needs to avoid that Tori Spelling ho

who has been hired to rape the blessed seed
from his body to insure that the March line
will continue forever and ever. There is also this part
where go down into this cave full of nasty weeds

and giant salamander like daemons and things.
The movie is really good even though this poem is not
so make sure that if you are a Lovecraft fan
you see this movie before it flies off shelves using wings.

Wow, that was harder that I thought it would be. I’m sorry that I put you through reading a poem review of the movie Cthulhu. I hope that you will see that movie, it was very good. I’m planning on re-reading Lovecraft’s short story “The Shadow over Innsmouth” and posting a review in a few days. I’ve also ordered a used copy of Dagon that I’m looking forward to watching and reviewing soon.

Yeah Right

DAGON by H. P. Lovecraft

Reading Lovecraft before bed is a trip. I had such amazing dreams last night. They didn’t have anything to do with Lovecraft or his Mythos, but I will attribute my dreams to his haunting tales of unmentionable things that scurry in the dark.

“Dagon” is the suicide note left by a morphine addled survivor of The Great War. The story begins as he writes his suicide’s expiation, recounting that horrible experience that twisted his mind and has left him in his current emotional state. He wishes the reader to know that his death is not due his need for morphine or that his bottle is now empty. No! He wants the reader to know that he could not bear to live with knowing that one day that which he saw in the Pacific would rise and enslave all of the Human race.

While adrift in the Pacific, his life raft came upon a newly risen island coved in the rotting crocuses of familiar species of fish and specimens that he had never seen before. He noted the lack of scavenger birds and concluded that he stood on newly risen ocean floor. Seeking shelter, he traveled the landscape until he found a cove covered with strange hieroglyphs in the shape of all manner of sea life.

One such glyph clearly depicted a whale, but to as the human shaped creature that held it under its arm like a child carries a puppy, he had no name for it. This creature surely must be the exaggeration of an ancient sea worshiping tribe lost to the dark depths as the continents broke up and dispersed into their present formation. But as he looked on and tried to translate the drawings, the sea began to rumble and churn as a “Vast, Polyphemus-like, and loathsome” (40) creature appeared.

The narrator’s vision of this creature drove him mad, for how could such a creature exist. He managed to escape the island and find his way to a San Francisco Hospital. After his release, he perused all scientific and mythological explanations, the closet being “the ancient Philistine legend of Dagon, the Fish-God” (41).

Nothing eased his mind. His paranoia and mental anguish increased exponentially and brought him to his point in the story. Having finished his accounting, he jumped from the open window to his death.

A great story. Read it here: Dagon

Lovecraft, H. P., “Dagon.” The Transition of H. P. Lovecraft: The Road to Madness. New York: Del Rey, 1996, 37 – 41.

Google 411

“Google 411”

There once was a service that charged you
real money to uncover a clue
4-1-1 a number
until I discovered
the Google solution, click here, it’s true

Pluto

“Pluto”

Your galactic dance with Charon has taken center stage
with a monumental tango that threatens to rearrange

Your children, Nix and Hydra, orbit and wait
wondering if they too should worry about your fate

Planet or Plutoid, which category will it be
this controversy in part because of a mouse named Mickey

Like a drunk, you wobble and weave through the universe
crossing in front of Neptune’s audible and furious curse

O! Pluto, the largest brightest object in the Kuiper belt formation
I guess we will just have wait for absolute conformation of your station

MARS: A TRAVELER’S GUIDE by Ruth Nestvold

I wanted to see what was happening with the 2008 Nebula Award for short stories and found this great podcast called StarShipSofa, which has an audio version of all the 2008 Nominees. I might try to make my way through them all in the coming months, but I make no promises.

The first one that I had a chance to listen to, while stuck in the car on my way to pick up my wife from work, was “Mars: A Traveler's Guide” by Ruth Nestvold. The story was amazingly well conceived and executed. I’m not sure that I would have enjoyed reading this story, but the narration by Ray Sizemore was excellent.

The story is completely told by a voice activated computer program, ‘Mars: A Traveler’s Guide.’ The program is activated by a person, an implied person, the reader never hears the voice of the character. There are dreadful moments of anticipation for the reader as the program repeat back heightened ‘key words’ for which it has no entries.

It become obvious to the listener/reader that the person who is accessing entries on everything from ‘dust,’ ‘land rovers,’ and ‘windstorms,’ that something is terribly, horrifically wrong.

The story is really clever. Download it and listen to it now: “Mars: A Traveler's Guide

Nestvold, Ruth. “Mars: A Traveler's Guide.” Narration: Ray Sizemore. StarShipSofa

Nestvold, Ruth. “Mars: A Traveler's Guide.” Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine, January 2008.

Dear Said

Said, my black cat, is named after Edward Said, author of many books including “Orientalism.” Weetzie Bat is my wife’s cat, named after the Weetzie Bat, a character in a series of books by Francesca Lia Block.

“Dear Said,”

5:30 AM comes too early
and too late in the morning to recover lost sleep
what is it that drives your hunger
always on the prowl searching the floor,
bookshelves, kitchen counter, sometimes
I’ve caught you licking the floor, some lost bit of flavor

Your behavior is both cute and appalling,
stalking the older and wiser Weetzie Bat, chasing
her from tabletop to bed to dresser top, fighting
fur-flying, is not acceptable, and while were on the subject,
neither is swiping at my leg while on the toilet

The doctors say that you must still loose more weight
and like us those last few pounds fall hard,
never in time for swim suit weather, and
feeding you less and less is torture for all those involved,
especially poor Weetzie Bat, who must look like
a tasty morsel to you, or at very least a competitor
for any scrap

The doctors also say that if you can’t calm down,
there are drugs that can help you relax, stop
patrolling, stop hunting, stop hurting Weetzie Bat,
and waking us up in the morning

I don’t want to hear the doctors' words, I love you
and your obsessive smile and the way you
follow me around the house and knock things
from on high, testing gravity and my patience

Always under foot, always there to clean my fingers,
always, Said

WELL OF SKY by Joely Sue Burkhart

Drollerie Press is giving away short fiction here: Free Stories!

Looking through the titles that Drollerie Press is giving away, “Well of Sky” by Joely Sue Burkhart jumped out at me. The description mentioned the Maya and it has been a longtime since I’ve read a story about them. So, I decided to give it a go, right, free is good.

“Well of Sky” is about a the tormented soul of a special woman, a woman who has decided to come out of a self-imposed jungle exile. She is tired of being looked at in fear and longs for companionship. She has offered herself to Lord Five Shield, if he can win the afternoons ball game and complete the proper ritual sacrifice of the his competitor.

However, her heart is not in marriage. Lady Jade Mirror simply wishes to live a normal life, have a family, have friends. The Sorcerer, Itzam, tells her lovingly, like a daughter, that she will she will never have a normal life. She has travel into the land of the dead and returned, the people will always look at her with fear and suspicion.

Lady Jade Mirror must make a choice, the continued freedom that exile provides or a bondage to Lord Five Shield through marriage. However, there might be a third choice available to woman who has traveled deaths road and survived. Will Lady Jade Mirror have the courage to seek out the black jaguar that stalks her dreams?

“Well of Sky” is free. Go read it.

Burkhart, Joely Sue. “Well of Sky.” Drollerie Press

Thrice Stolen

This poem was inspired by:

Chinese Hunger for Sons Fuels Boys’ Abductions
By ANDREW JACOBS
Published: April 5, 2009
Parents in eastern industrial areas receive little help in finding their children, whose kidnappings constitute a thriving business.


“Thrice Stolen”

I once lived in China’s Pearl River Delta,
where I must have had a mother who loved me,
a father who was proud of his baby Dragon,
and a sister who could not hold on to me,
as a car snatched me away.

My name was Aiguo, meaning patriotic, and I remember.

My new father and mother were both loving
and proud of their secrete treasure, telling
friends and relatives that I was a gift from heaven
delivered to their step by the hands of the Buddha,
but one day while father was busy with customers,
strong hands lived me away.

My name was Da, meaning strike, and I remember.

My new father and mother were both hard working
types and I was destined to be great, taking over
the family business someday, when the sun and the moon
had traveled the sky the correct number of times,
but one day, the lure of mango and a toy car would
seduce me away.

My name was He, meaning Yellow River, and I remember.