poem09 Jul 2018 02:29 pm

The latest storm is fingering
The star-craft door, wanting
Access through the air lock:
Seeking the turbulence of our nightmares,
The chattering logic of our fears.
Storm algebra is building
To storm calculus, inferentials
And differentials calculating us
Awake all night. Each storm
Seems more focused on points
Of ingress, the weather learning
Our ways, and its own limitations.
Angry air takes measurements,
Aggressively projects pressures,
Seems to imagine
What use there is to our appendages,
How they are applied against air-lock doors.
I have warned the crew
That even a clear day is thinking about us:
Hide your locomotion, repurpose
Your grasp, lie with your ways,
Admit no limitations.
Listen, as the fingering becomes scratching.


One Response to “New Planet Landscape 31 by Ken Poyner”

  1. on 15 Jul 2018 at 4:46 am Bruce Boston

    Like it. Nice and creepy!

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