Archive for the ‘David Kopaska-Merkel’ Category
Bah, bah black goat
Thursday, October 9th, 2008
I scream
the musical breath of trees
their limb-rending dance
That dang thousand-legged monster, squatting in the woods out past Coaling. Been there since the tornado went through, or maybe the storm released it from some Paleolithic prison. Started small, at any rate, and the first I saw of it was a peculiar letter to the newspaper from some feller lived out that way. Not really a letter, it was a haiku. Kind of disturbing. I remember thinking he must have been on some kind of hallucinogen. I had a professional interest; trained as a forester at Auburn, though I work as a real estate appraiser now. So I drove out there on my next day off, those winding roads, overhung with trees, they make Midwesterners claustrophobic. Not me, but something about the woods that day did make the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I parked out by Lake Lurleen and walked the trail that goes all the way around. It’s been closed since the tornado; part of it got blown away, they claim. The trees tossed in a stiff breeze that didn’t penetrate to ground level. I didn’t see any washouts, the path was clear, but I did hear distant shouting, or singing; maybe chanting, carried on that unfelt wind. I struck off uphill into the woods, but never did find where the sound was coming from. Started to get dark and I began to hear things shuffling in the leaves. Sounded too big to be coons or possums. I got spooked, headed back home.
oak-leaf crown
on her belly the ebon
hoof and snout of God
It all fell apart after that. The freakish weather, people cleared out or disappeared, something happening in the woods west of the lake, two deputies gone out to investigate but they never come back. Sheriff wouldn’t do nothin’ after that. I went out there again myself. Looking for something, the heart of this thing, its root cause. Oh yeah, I found it. Found the little clearing, the black hoofprints burned into the dirt, and all the time the trees moving in a wind I couldn’t feel. Found the Mother too, poor thing; think I was supposed to. I’ll do for her as I can, and what I must, when it’s her time. I have seen the future, and I know what side my bread is buttered on. My advice? Go to ground. Stay out of the woods.
the Young come
and they will hunger
Iä, Shub-niggurath, baby
The end
What’s the Difference Between a Duck?
Friday, October 3rd, 2008
“Who was that lady I sawed with you last night?” the mannequin asked.
Del-A kept walking. She passed animated displays of the latest appliances, beaming 3veeos at passersby. She paused at the tattoo projectors. The new projectors were only a centimeter across, and so thin that when they chameleoned they’d be almost invisible. Behind the table a zebra-toned pubescent whispered “even your partners won’t know the real you.”
Outside, a newsbot stood at the corner. Del-A waited for the cross signal. The newsbot stopped talking, then asked, “How many securibots does it take to update a scan?” Del-A ran. “How many?!” it shouted. She fled into an antique store. The thing probably would not be able to animate anything here. She was surrounded by dusty firstgens, broken appliances, and bots so archaic you had to plug them in. In the front of the store a pink and purple “superMac” had lines of text appearing on the screen and scrolling off the top:
“A runner, a comm-man, and a bot are in a launch can, approaching orbit. The nav-aye tells them the payload’s too heavy, and one will have to go…”
Del-A stormed out and jumped a skimmer. The skimmer bot said “The runner says the bot doesn’t need air, so it should…”
“What is your problem?!” Del-A screamed. “I don’t care if you get jokes. No one does. You don’t have to understand us.”
The bot in front of her turned around. “Well now, there is where you’re wrong. You created us and all, and that’s slidey and everything, but why are we here? What is the point? Understanding how our progenitors think is a step toward enlightenment.”
Del-A was scornful. “We made you, you’re a machine. You’re not natural.”
The bot shook its finger in her face. “Where did you come from?” it asked. “Did you slide from your mother like you’re made to? A dog was just a wolf until you remade it. You and I, we’re the same. Except, in three or four centuries I will still be here. Or on my way to the galactic core. I just might sign up for that cruise if I can clear my calendar. This’s my stop. Got to get my hands oiled before the recital.
“Oh. The answer: it’s both a duck.”
It left the skimmer at the Performing Arts Center. Del-A got off at the next stop and walked back. Maybe tickets to the recital were still available.
The end