Surface, Hamartia

When phones had buttons
the obvious mediation of the machine,
a tool of man,
began conversations with touch and voice
as in a darkened room.

A glossy design
now keeps the conversation
between man and machine
at the surface.

Your fingers skim over messages.
Instant data yield information
without action, without give-and-take.

No wonder online comments are misunderstood
or construed for the maximum feedback --
more comments, shares and likes
without a breath exchanged or
the look in someone's eyes when they tell you
they love you or hate you.

Would the androids who dream of electric sheep
believe that you dream
of being electric, and of always
pushing buttons you cannot feel?

A Unicorn's Tale, Part 6

6.

     He told me how to bounce there, which was really how to bounce anywhere, which is a large part of finding lost things. I would get into the mathematics of it, but unicorns use a few imaginary terms I am not certain could translate into any of the human languages.
     Upon my bounce into Miamono Tower, Floor Thirty-Seven, Room 3706 I knocked over a table stacked with cupcakes.
    “Watch where you’re going, Tiberius.” Larry happened to glance up from the brightly lit table next to the one I’d plowed into. “Oh, it’s you. Mikey’s mad.”
     “He implied that you didn’t teach me much.”
     He scoffed. “Well, yeah, it takes time to do it properly and stuff.”
     He said it way too fast, which made me ask, “How much sugar have you had today?”

A Unicorn's Tale, Part 5

5.

     Somehow I escaped the pandemonium of the clearing and ended up in St. Petersburg. That happened to be a good thing for a little boy who had lost his mother in a crowd. He cried that he wanted his mommy, and I took him straight across the square. Unicorn magic is wonderful for finding lost things. Did I tell you about how I found a bride’s wedding cake? Never mind.
     I could not find anyone else in that latitude who needed a ride, so I bounced on over to Italy and ran the tilted streets of Torino for a while. I ended up taking a sunburned tourist to the hotel lobby he had just vacated. He said he’d vacated; as it turns out he was trying to get into the suite of an ex-girlfriend. I watched her fist make contact with the underside of his jaw.
      Believe me, I bounced out of there, quick.

So Serious Saturday #14

Fiction needs a basis in reality. Exercising non-fiction muscles once in a while benefits an active imagination, channeling creative energies as it focuses on a subject. So Serious Saturdays will be an active place for critical essays or writing about reality in the context of real events - even when it is not written on Saturdays.

Type: Informational/Opinion

Recommended Books for Young Adults

This week I was approached by a woman seeking to inspire ninth grade students, particularly boys, with fun and appropriate reads for a co-curricular book club.

I was actually recruited because I was the only one in that aisle of the bookstore who had read A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle, a wonderful young adult novel about a girl with two scientist parents who must rescue one of them from the far reaches of darkness and the universe with the aid of three mysterious women, her very gifted brother, and their new friend. After I had explained the basic plot of this timeless story, the woman informed me what she was searching for; the fact that I happened to have an English degree was a bonus.

Darrowwood Part Eleven

    11.

That could not be right.  Monica had never heard of a prep school preview lasting that long, and it did not feel as though it had been two weeks.  Just yesterday – or the day before, whichever – they had eaten the most delicious orange chicken she had ever tasted.

            “I mean, it’s not possible, right?” Monica asked Jenny sometime later.  They sat on the dock, twisting rope together,their assigned task today.

            “I don’t know,” Jenny replied.  She dangled her bare toes in the small lake behind the cafeteria.  Alendro had been generous enough to allow her to wear her flip-flops with her school uniform, the same pairs that were lying behind them on the fragrant pine planks.  Her big toe was still wrapped up in a bandage. Jenny wriggled all of her toes in the water and laughed.

            “What’s so funny?” Monica asked.

            “The water – it’s lapping against my feet.  It wants to play.”

A Gentle Reminder

Too late my heart gives thanks to Thee
and savors the daily blessing
when I believe my days are free
for old pleasures and carousing.

Before the day begins I should
bow down my knees to pray
that Thy strong and guiding hand would
direct my walk in Thy good way.

Each hour sends Thy gift of life,
a succession of small moments
to test how man can wait in strife
for the joy in unfolding contents.

Thy justice equals thy good grace
to broken spirits far and near
less lost than missing a strong base
on which to hold faith against fear.

Almost Craft Wednesday

This blog needed a place for talking about writing. "Craft Wednesday" will be me talking about all things writing: how to write, why to write, and my own craft journey. I hope to learn and to share experiences with you.   

Indecision

     The author is having some philosophical difficulties. Please return next week when she will have resolved what, exactly, she wants to say about tone, voice, or point-of-view.

     In the meantime, enjoy a selection of works listed under the Serials tab at the top of the blog.