5 SF Poems
by Brian Garrison
god particles
all it takes is one glow bug
puttering down the road
like a shaky white dodge neon
with its four-way flashers on
other bugs knock their green elbows
for a spot by the street lamp
or plunge head-first into zappers
for any bit of light
and if you look around
you'll see fields that put Orion and Cassiopeia to shame
that would put star maps out of business
if everyone knew
fall
it's easy to follow
the pattern of the computer
always trying to math the world together
in rapid bursts
building higher infinities
oneplusoneplusone
it's easy to follow
the pattern of the computer
where blinks are never fast enough
closed eyes miss
a billion bits
of oneplusoneplusone
it's easy to follow
the pattern of the computer
but electricity is no match
for a fresh batch of kinetic energy
like the snow flakes
tugging on the final, stubborn leaves
one
plus one
plus one
the simple demands of a school teacher
a robot never forgets
and isn't distracted by the rivets in the chair
adding dimples to your soft skin
and speed bumps to your thoughts
until they crash
escape
I
everything was right
except for temperature
no tongues burnt on soup
and never a cold shower
Brooks grew up knowing only tepid
as his virParents
taught him to distinguish
"this tea is hot"
"the milk is cold"
his infant brain ascribed the words
to color
the way the tea bag bleeds a burgundy-red
is like the coil on the stove glowing bright
II
it's hot today
says twelve-year-old Brooks
referring to the way the sun
stabs through the clouds
slicing them apart
with blades of golden-red
eager onlookers swooned
ready to leave behind
the wasteland Earth,
don an icy metal mindwave helmet,
and enter the fully-tested
Paradise Planet
obsolete
morning used to be
that time when my laptop battery
asked for a break
or for my lazy hands to plug it in
a reminder
that I, too, must shut down
restart
no electric buzz
or fancy startup sounds
the mid-sky sun was my alarm
pushing on my covers
simulating weight
I almost forgot
the sun's boot-up process
rendering itself so high in the sky
from the horizon
so it could slide back down
to another night
now that I've got the upgrade
I hardly miss my adolescent clock
About the Author
Brian dodges around from east to west, sometimes falling out of the country (just slightly north). Despite the malicious technologies that attempt to trap him, he is sometimes found runing amok outside. Ironically, he is caught by these technologies themselves (see digital picture above). Many of his poems tend to be written when he should be sleeping and/or studying psychology.
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