5 SF Poems

by Brian Garrison


Poems Copyright (C) 2009, Brian Garrison.
Images Copyright (C) 2009, Rudy Rucker.
400 Words.



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




it's easy to follow

the pattern of the computer

always trying to math the world together

in rapid bursts

building higher infinities



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


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






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



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





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



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.

Post a comment on this story!

Back To Flurb Home Page...