Winter 2007 Volume One Issue One
Peering into the Mechanics - by Danny Adams
Sixteen feet square and twelve feet overhead, the Hole
confirmed all I'd suspected:
peering through, the machinations of the universe
proved to be held aloft by beams
smelling of cold petrification,
black light-absorbent goo leaking into night,
mucking over the starlight,
stealing signals from other worlds.
The Hole dumped quintessence,
thick with soil-brown wet organic goo,
into my driveway--
I was stupid enough
to walk through it barefoot,
itching my feet for days.
This explains a great deal.
I want to fix it.
I have a morbid fascination
for secrets, so while philosophers pine,
theologians argue, scientists prod,
bombs explode, words catch fire,
I'm going in--
jump in to rescue me
if I'm not back in a thousand years.
At least the stars should glow more brightly now.