Through a glass darkly, I see creation’s start. Music of the spheres overdone. Dark matter is not absorbed, but reflects, then emits.
The dark will push, the Earth pulls. Continue reading “Push Pull”
Category: Fiction
Physical abundance v information abundance
Remembering the old work by Negroponte, bits versus atoms. In the digital economy we learn, organize, and tell stories that are ephemeral.
Electrons versus photons is a close thing to atoms versus bits. It seems that the abundance economy is not physical, but light you’re looking at right here. A simple handshake can move mountains, e.g. a digital transaction with physical tether.
Every object contains its corresponding bits, like an atom with its ghost.
Entropify
The minimum size of your data compressed.
At this speed, there are no errors.
Your information skirts the edge of a black place
Gone dark.
None is lost. It defies further compression.
I call brand new things. Holy things.
Perfect orbit, perfect wobble,
Information into a sketch.
(updating…)
Holosphere
Let the oracle speak…
Oh predictive text,
Understood before I utter you,
Delphic phrases speak out AI,
Chanting to me with the burned-out mouth,
Face then gone.
Desert of rainbow spray,
Water dissolves.
Concealment
The world of concealment, dark figures, breathing deep. One dimensional creatures slip out into two dimensions briefly, ever so briefly. Into three dimensions. Eternal destiny is three to two to one dimensions, out of sight. They still hide in shade.
Imagination can make the creatures slip into three.
We are no mere mortals, but “gods.”
Every argument is eternal. We don’t think what each means. Words take flight and move mountains.
(working…)
Extant
On my trip to Rome, I encountered ruins that offer escape. Back to the emanations of strength and high culture deteriorating. Marble remembrances, rocks you never thought could die. How did things so majestic become dust?
How did centuries pass so quickly, yet rock rot?
The great Colosseum, its floors and walls dead.
There is no memory of its builders. Those men who designed it are not even in history.
The things we hold great become dust. The positions we value, the accomplishments, beneficent action. Laurels are made of fragile leaves.
Rain
Little parka, water on eyelashes, rotted wood fence, dappled leaves.
The smell of rain on concrete. Captured scents. I feel it.
I saw Apollo cross the sky
Brilliant light, golden hair.
Across the firmament,
His chariot ripped.
Time slowed down,
Heaven surround.
He carried the star round the flame.
His lance shone its light.
Like pure silver,
The confluence of the rivers,
On his feet touched by divine.
He has fire.