I can't be more specific.

I feel a little vague,
as though my edges were a blur,
my speech a slur
that begins and ends
with white noise.

It's a funny kind of state,
being an open set, continuum,
divergent sum
that does not know
to be discrete.

I could lay down lines
just past blue, just short of green
and me in between,
but lines cut
off my extremities.

I'll stick, for now, with vague,
like a developing ideal,
unrealized, real,
and impossible
to explain.

Two random, as they were thought "poems."

It was cold, and he did not have pockets.
It was dark, and he forgot about the dresser.
It was late, and he could not sleep.
It was time, and he was not there.



On the mountains with
the shadows
that sleep,
in a place forgotten
by the rain,
the dust
remembers what it
was
and weeps.

Dream Log 55: Summer Glau Beats Up Everyone

Imagine one of those "The making of" programs that plays clips from a movie along with commentary and behind the scenes footage. Now, imagine that Summer Glau (River Tam in Firefly) and a few other nerdom superstars decided to make a spoof of every science fiction action film ever made.

Cut to a scene of the cast running dramatically through an enemy spaceship. Suddenly, a massive contingency of black-uniformed soldiers appears to block their path. Everyone steps back and Summer just lets loose with her fists, and guns when she bothers to pick them up.

"Some Firefly fans might be disappointed by the fight scenes because I never use an axe or a sword. However, I'd argue that the larger corpse count makes up for the lower brutality," Summer said from a commentary bubble in the corner.

After the heroes destroyed the main computer of the ship, (which they recognized by its unnecessarily inaccessible placement over a giant hole in the ground because where else do you put important things in scifi?) they were about to abscond unharmed in an escape pod.

"Wait!" one of the heroes cried, "We can't leave yet!"

"Why not?"

"One more thing has to happen." As he spoke, an unnamed character in a red shirt ran towards the escape pod doors, which of course started to close by inches. Limping hard on the red shirt's heals were several zombified enemy soldiers. The man and several of the zombie limbs made it part way through the door. Only part way though. The crunched closed, leaving the head of the red shirt and a rotting leg and arm in the pod. The heroes looked at the gore silently.

"Okay! Now we can go!"