An army of inchworms parachute
in on strings of silky steel. They
scramble and squirm as if frightened
of falling as they slowly descend from
some invisible biplane. The
first few reach the ground, their
camouflaged flesh allowing them
to easily infiltrate the perimeter
of spring foliage. The rest of
the platoon still drifts from the
sky, swinging in the wartorn winds
of May. Three soldiers are stolen
by this violent breeze and cast
off to shores unknown. A spot of green
writhes upon the table down
below; their sergeant stands before
me, defiant and poised, prepared
to strike that crucial blow. I
push my chair backwards
as I stand up to fight back;
it slices through a wall of
tethered strands, sending
the remaining troops to
plummet to the ground. The
sergeant squiggles safely
away so he might fight
another day, and I the giant
turn back to this page, fully
unaware of the battle being waged.
poetry
A small sampling of things I've written over the years that could arguably fall under the general blanket of "Poetry." Much of the poetry you see here was originally published on Five By Five Hundred, and you can also find my stuff in upcoming issues of Asimov's magazine. (please note: this isn't actually structured into any kind of order or anything)