On the Presence of Being Everywhere [poem] Christ the child is a dry rib in God's hand. Sinew is drawn tight, tissue and flesh fashioned Into solitary boy-shape. Left to roam The fields of heaven, he falls Down God's high hill. He stumbles with the thunder, Falls with the rain, is borne upon the wind. Finding his tribe inside the Levant, he regales them With legends of Jonah; Comforts the bloodied lamb, Frees the gasping, netted fish; yet still he descends Through

Simulation (Through the Looking Glass) “Observe this fagged-out world, this patch of chemical scum, where things – people, cats, tables, nouns, quarks – are in frozen flight from something we call ti esti. A laser of light on a lens or a little globe of acid in the petri dish should suffice – then we can write our final report. Lots of data but I don’t expect to be enlightened.”

The Humanzee In the heat of a celluloid American night, Doctor Franklin Ahab — host to a crowd of forty souls — walks in a stately manner through the upper rooms of his Massachusetts mansion. He descends the wide staircase, smiling and reeling off witty one-liners. An orchestra plays The Rite of Spring in the enormous dining hall. For a few minutes Ahab casually mingles among his guests, then calls for the conductor to settle down. Hester, his life partner in a transparent d