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Through the day I felt edges of somethings that weren’t there. I lifted a toe and felt a ceiling and then nothing. I saw nothing. A few times it felt like I leaned against a spider’s web. But a quick clasp found nothing there. I don’t have an answer. I don’t want one.

“I think I’ll have a Peach Sunset today.” The bartender said, “Clear or—“ “Cloudy,” she said smiling. He combined spirits; shook. “Here you are.” She sipped. “That’s nice. Thanks.” “You from out of town?” She place a finger in the drink and then to her lips. “I am. I was.”

I like to walk the shore in the last light. Distinction becoming more elusive. Flashes of predators in shadow or beneath wave. Barefoot, recklessly walking away from the definite. I may turn back at some point. Or maybe this time I'll keep walking and join the limitless.

The man I’ve called father for most of my life gives me his final spell and says, “I spent too long, probably, creating a… dramatic introduction for you. Not that you’ll need it really, but first impressions…” I memorize the illegal spell. I hug my father. I begin to sing.

“My dear, there are more ways to learn than there are things to be taught. Sometimes you must temporarily lose what is known so that it can be taught again.” “So that it can be learned correctly?” “Perhaps—more importantly, that it is learned in multiple ways.”

I screamed, "Stop!" She pulled her hand away slowly from the crystal, staring. "Wait... please... stop," I whispered. She couldn't hear. She flung her arms around it. I could feel her absorbed into the lattice. Captured, never together; never apart. Equidistant. Selfsame.

There is a burrow I go I hide I prey I fly fast, please God bring the night I skirt bob weave Wings above Earth raze the light But she is the night Her flight is right How wide her sight I am small I am white I near the hole Her flight is right I leap I pray She is the night

Technologically advanced, the ancient civilization of Ponpe was nonetheless caught unprepared by the rarely seen “night amber” droplet. It engulfed the entire planet and all its inhabitants. After some apparent planetary catastrophe, this shard was found orbiting a gas giant.

I came to my rooftop home to find someone had installed a set of stairs atop one window. I felt a surge of relief! The emotion snowball as I sat down on a cool step. I giggled as I inched my way rearward to the top. I stayed the night up there, laughing and plotting my revenge.

I was born there. A plant or tree; which one I don’t remember. I changed using the dreams of those travelers who had the misfortune to rest there. I am a traveler now. Leaving my home for a time or forever; I don’t know which. I am seeking the strange visions that created me.

I ran barefoot that day over the stony fields. Everyday was beautiful in a different way. I noticed a boulder rising from the water. I'd never seen it, but it seemed familiar. My perspective shifted. I was the boulder. The water splashed as my choice of heaven I remembered.

Each one traveled that day to the park. Perhaps with the same mind to enjoy the remaining days of warmth. They heard a sound, a man calling in the distance. It was the ice cream vender, whose horse drawn cart carried fresh treats. The sound of a little boy’s pleas granted.

The sound draws me from my motel room. Beyond a mound of snow, one red light. It was not there earlier. I hear sound followed by pressure and absolute silence. The asphalt is cold when I wake; it contrasts the heat from the fires. I look up at a pulsing red star in the night.

“There’s a trap door in the mound? Won’t water flood in?” “Yes, perhaps.” “Then I drop the offering in?” “No, not drop. The offering must be secured at the bottom. You can swim?” “Yes—” “Well take a deep breath before going in, and make sure the manacles at the bottom fit tight.”

Father drove us to this lake. We'd wore swimming trucks; he made us swim to the island. He showed us the cabins and told us that he and his brother had built them when they were our age. How grand-dad had taken them to the lake and explained that he had created the island.

"Ready?" the man with the rope asked. "Ready!" we said in unison. We floated upward. "This is my first time. I'm so excited!" "It's my first time too! I thought you were the pilot!? Let's jump before we get too high!" I had a leg over the side before he grabbed me laughing.

Maybe he’s a cannibal— That’s what an inside voices says. They have to spit when they see you because they’re cannibals: you make their mouths water! Another voice laughs, that’s not it. Tough guys don’t like us, they learned to spit hatred. Like Pavlov’s dog, one notes.

He roams the labyrinth, mumbling. “I spend my days searching for something to eat in this—what was that? WHO GOES THERE?!” He waits. Nothing but the whistle of stale air. “NOW, look! My leggings have come unstitched!” Mockingly, ‘But we didn’t bring a tailor! Don’t kill us!’

Distance is a delusion of self. There are many quanta all falling, spinning, orbiting one, made of them. Cycles of time, back and forth, past and present, i.e. the future. All eternity the cresting of an endless wave that stretches to nowhere. We are it. There is no there.

"Looks like these are ready to harvest." The new hand says, "I don't see any crops." "Well open your eyes son, there right there large'rn life." Silence from the new hire. "Heh, what do you weed eaters call 'em... mount-ans? Yep, I'd say these are plump and ready to pick."