By TOM SLEIGH
After the explosions, the big one of the Big Bang,
the little one of the firecrackers set by some kid
There’s an itch in my throat like fox fur,
broom bush, cactus whittled to dust,
and my son thinks the city has vanished,
By SASHA STILES
This month we welcome back contributor Sasha Stiles, whose TECHNELEGY is coming soon in hardcover from Black Springs Press Group.
Completion: Are You Ready for The Future?
An ars poetica cybernetica*
Are you ready for the future?
If you are, today is your day. And when tomorrow hits you like a ton of bricks, you’ll appreciate today even more. Because in reality, tomorrow is a line you walk towards, and now is a line you never see. But you just didn’t see it yet. Reflect. Now the anticipation is here. Finally.
Are you ready for the future?
That depends on how you define ready.
My thirteen-year-old sister, Mara, wakes me to tell me that she is dead.
She believes this.
I’m twelve, the younger one, though the age difference has never really mattered between us. In the dimness of our bedroom, she’s pressed close to me, her skin warm and a bit sweaty. Just beyond our window–invisible to me now in the dark–the ocean thrashes. I hear and taste it; it makes everything here salty, even the indoors.
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