fallslikesnow

1. " The secret of the lapwing is, disguise the secret. " (Robert Graves, The White Goddess) 2. The Lapwing is hopping across the grass Its play of a broken wing convincing all critics And attracting them away from the nest. 3. Small black eyes peering out of the hedgerow Constant patrols to secure the perimeter Lacking any defensive capability beyond the wing trick The Lapwing scans the sky for signs of hope 4. We will summon all of our resources And those of our allies Spy satellites the size of pickups Will gently rotate and re-focus  Ballistic, sub-orbital Spy planes will fly overhead taking 10,000 pictures a second Glittering machines The size and shape of spiders Will skitter through the hedgerow Looking for the nest 5. To be the first to fly across the field of broken bones And see the roadway of shards the dead will walk upon To fly across, along, up 6. Against a sky that looks as though The blue were matte paint Hastily slapped on the

My poem " The World Behind the Sky " has just appeared in the April edition of Deathly Romantic.

We dug back into the shoreline according to some plan dictated by Constancy. As far as we could tell, we and the other crews were were making complex the simple, beautiful curve of our coastline. Curves were becoming irregular fractals once the high basalt dams came down. The serious questions were, "Why do this?" and, "Why do it so inefficiently?" *** I had a feeling I'd find Neil getting drunk somewhere on the Sea of Tranquility seafront. He always liked high class bars with nice views, when he was sane and presentable enough to get served. Sure enough I found him at a table looking out over the Sea of Tranquility, kept company by a G&T. I sat opposite him and ordered a coffee from a sullen looking waiter. "So what's going on Neil? Why was I brain-screwed by Constancy then bugged by her?" "A black dog and a white dog fight, which one . . . ." "No Neil, no more of that shit. Answers please" "Loo

Owning an unusable gun gave me the itch to own a usable one. Being in my early twenties and also being a barely functioning addict of several substances I found this to be difficult but possible. The gun itself was a simple magnetic projectile device and came with a solid block that could produce 100 slugs. I was picked up inside an hour, the motes having reported me to Constancy. The sheriffs who brought me in laughed all the way back to the station, telling me that the gun would be back on the streets the next day. Another gullible fool would follow me into the mines. *** Joes' Neuro and Optosurgery Shack was, by common consent, the best in the Ship. Belying the North Pole style name it was actually on the shallow part of the South Pole end-cap. Normally I could never afford even an eye colour change here, let alone the extensive implants I had in mid. "So what exactly did you have in mind Mr. Stone?" the reception functionary sneered. To be fair, I had stopped at a cou

I decided to let Neil stay a few days. We were both screwed up. Perhaps between the two of us we could make a non-screwed up person. Maybe we could go to a meeting or two. Or go to a pub. I was OK with either. "Over there, Neil. Go pass out again." Obediently he collapsed onto a mattress up against a bare brick wall. Above his head was a print of early ship construction. Scaffolding around a series of misshapen rocks. I called up my system and the room filled with pristine, simple graphics. I didn't care about the calls, mails and constructs spinning wildly in one corner. I'd already screened them back at Tranquility on my bracelet and paper. Nothing that couldn't wait until tomorrow. I invoked my high level Sea of Dreams Ecological Council clearance (a green ghost emerged from my forehead and flitted to the commlink box). The room filled with a graphic representing the Sea, all blacks and greys. Tiny patches of white around our reclamation projects. Short of rest