Dead Planet XLVIII

Dead Planet XLVIII

humanoid androids—
were popular way back then
on tralfamadore

scifaiku poets—
like the wise young basho
wrote humanoid lit

krell stem cell research—
and reverse engineering
designed perfect toys

cute android boy toys—
genetically altered droids
built for your pleasure

simply flip a switch—
so long desperate housewives
douchedroid boyz so hot

humanoid boy toys—
a popular dark model
very well-endowed

across the universe—
from the sleek rings of saturn
to ganymede town

from red plains of mars—
to the slave pits of titan
douchedroid dildos ruled

multi-channel clips—
drifting in & out of time
droid soap-operas

down there on terra—
many spacewives so happy
morphed into droid love

terraformed timelines—
tralfamadorian scripts
zits on the zeitgeist

pick your own time-slot—
leave it to douchedroid high tech
total recall cheap!!!

that’s what basho did—
a little side-step in time
back to the sixties

embedding himself—
synchronicity schmoozing
new scenario

thanks to scifaiku—
swiping his memo-card clean
and starting again…

Dead Planet VLVII

Dead Planet XLVII

“it was the first of
Satsuki—the time-
traveling month”
—Basho, Narrow Road
to Triton Interior

in summer triton—
frozen methane waterfalls
begins long journey

a zeit zipper lock—
i couldn’t open it right
all the falling stars

even titan trolls—
leave it alone this fissure
splitting the known worlds

android boy pauses—
looks across neptune’s plains
feeling nothing new

scifaiku silence—
waiting for it to emerge
from the moon shadow

edo’s beginnings—
tokugawa shogunate
young handsome warlords

after victory—
the battle of saturn’s rings
solar daimyo reigns

the title shogun=
consolidated control
alliance system

power base strengthened—
mollifying one's rivals
triton stealth stronghold

tokugawa fleets—
solar system bakufu
space bureaucracy

feudal hierarchy—
fadai “house daimyo” droids
imperial bots

triton troops allowed—
but no galaxy-going ships
one castle per sun

closed planet edict—
interstellar trade outlawed
dejima only

earthboy-childhood’s end—
deep in the planet’s dark heart
exile-planning droids

almost no one sees—
nagasaki bloom thru time
it takes third eye sight

sword, ship, laser gun—
all proudly displayed
when boyhood’s end comes

Dead Planet XLVI

Dead Planet XLVI

“Much of the prose
in Dune started out
as haiku and then
was given minimal
additional word-
padding to make
it conform to
normal English
sentence structure.”
—Frank Herbert,
The Road to Dune

watching gulf news—
thinking about giedi prime
baron harkonnen

“One element of the construction of this book’s all the way through there…”

scifiku poets—
know the giedi prime secret
the spice of dune

“that I wrote certain parts
of it in haiku and other poetical forms…”

those pulp sci-fi dayz—
back when i was a young Slan
telepathic kid

“and then expanded them to prose
to create a pace.”

Null-a can be taught—
at least that’s what van vogt said
do i still think so?

“I often use a Jungian mandala
in squaring off characters against each other,
assigning a dominant psychological role to each.”

herbert uses haiku—
like quick scifiku snapshots
then fleshes out the plots

“The implications of color, position,
word root and prosodic suggestion…”

delany and disch—
streamlining their prose ad lib
impromptu scifiku

“—all are taken into account when a scene
has to have a maximum impact.”

hugo nebula—
squeezed into ace paperback
pulp fiction haiku

“And what scene doesn’t if a book—
…is tightly written?”

Trouble on Triton

Trouble on Triton
—for Samuel R. Delany

“Lay ordinate and abscissa
on the century. Now cut me
a quadrant. Third quadrant
if you please. I was born in
‘fifty. Here it’s 2010”
—Samuel R. Delany,
Time Considered as a Helix
Of Semi-Precious Stones

a toke of some weed—
helps to transform this journey
into smooth helix

a neat tight helix—
of semi-precious stones
from here to triton

spring passes—
deep water horizon blows
the birds & fish scream

ah—speechless back then
disco inferno bad boyz
blazing saddles time

we shave our heads bald—
my brokeback mountain boyfriend
we start the journey

stop awhile on mars—
by the pyramid ruins
our journey moving

jasper's the password—
throughout six worlds & worldlets
translation: “fuck off”

the hologram plate—
it gets cut in half again
same information

by analogy—
tralfamadorian time
bejewels the facets

bp, exxon, shell—
big time racketeer barons
crime big business

good witch of the west—
in her saucer overhead
speeds toward triton town

with this jewel i join—
the roguish fraternity
doorways dial open

here comes the hawk kid—
get me outta here he sayz
we barefoot it out

cute skanky hustler—
dirty black denim jacket
no shirt beneath it

hair pale like split pine—
a ripe pair of black bluejeans
“what else ya got, huh?”

on the waterfront—
by the flashing black hudson
down by the dark piers

i show him the jewels—
he paws thru them all knuckles
with chewed fingernails

they are worth plenty—
ten times more than i ever
hope to get that night

the kid sayz “hey, not bad—
am going to a party
later on tonight”

hell’s kitchen at ten—
regina abolafia
at the tower top

citycorp singers—
tokyo leads with seven
alex spinnel’s there

the word is changing—
tonight & young hawk is game
we slink towards times square

past fifty-seventh—
strolling down dark new york streets
then down in subway

doors hiss, grey floor hums—
dark patterns rush the windows
we lurch to a stop

above us a light rain—
the thousand sequined city
rushing overhead

the platform sign sayz—
twelve towers station with its
looming tall condos

luxury towers—
menacing the lower clouds
we go straight up there

sleek elevator—
wrapping us in gold foil petals
eighty stories zip

hawk calls me harvey—
the tungsten magnate

the party is swank—
sarah palin is schmoozing
the planet potus

many wealthy guests—
senators, gay debutantes
golden charisma creeps

texaco heiress—
some university profs
movie stars rich riff-raff

the new word’s "agate”—
hawk the scifaiku poet
sayz over his drink

lumps of moonlight fall—
like lozenges thru the palms
arty the hawk smiles

i sell him the jewels—
some scarlet-banded beauties
sixty-thousand bucks

the helicopter—
blackens the moon above
crashing thru the ceiling

we make our escape—
hawk & me diving into
the elevator

infernal feet run—
the cloud alarms are sounding
the flames are roaring

the lobby fills up—
times square flows into the fray
brawlers, drunks, addicts

thieves, morphadine-heads—
douchedroid hustlers, some old drunks
then a brawl breaks out

we pass thru the guards—
all of them have been paid off
with precise finesse

we part company—
no blow-darts from passing cars
no alley deathrays

i reach the subway—
get the fuck outta there fast
nothing happens yet

agate gives way to—
malachite which turns into
tourmaline, beryl

then comes porphyry—
sapphire, cinnabar, turquoise
and then tiger’s eye

my new nom de plume—
h. calhoun eisenhower
triton ice cream queen

neptune mafia—
middle-class underworld hood
carefully legit

garnet takes over—
the basic rule be careful
imitate others

topaz i whisper—
trans-triton corporation
i wear a nice suit

touring frozen cliffs—
methane niagara falls
honeymoon romance

slick albino stud—
my new bride a droid princess
cybernetic girl

playing the deadpan game—
iapetus lux for lunch
bellona plaza

lovers come & go—
nonchalant mutant affairs
you get used to it

trianon hotel—
android ambiguities
humanoid failings

young spock bodyguards—
vast vats of vulcan jizzjuice
morphed badboy valets

spending my spare time—
au naturel android boyz
pink dilated eyes

gemütlichkeit boyz—
retro-engineered just right
grotesque genitals

great tourist gimmick—
johnny eck the cute half-boy
other half all-dick

another disguise—
my next flight to bellona
back to planet earth

the marigold suite—
aboard the platinum swan
johnny eck’s big smile

Dead Planet XLV

Night Visitor
—for Shikō Munakata

He’s surely not here—
He never was or will be…
Just a woodblock dream.

Shikō dreamed him up—
He’s just a strange Jomōn Man
Knocking at my door.

A night visitor—
Gone when I open the door
But the knock is real.

Mars is full of ghosts—
The landscape strewn with debris
Gears, clocks, skeletons.

There’s nothing much left—
Except for the sands of Mars
The cold stars above.

The expeditions—
Top secret to find out things
Why catastrophe?

Like the Lunar base—
On the dark side of the Moon
Lots of Nitrogen.

The Mars colony—
Led by Miss Eisenhower

And all the other—
Remote viewing personnel
Found out lots of things.

Delving back in time—
Zeitvernichtung technical

Deimos & Phobos—
Ancient satellite drones
Monitoring Mars.

The deeper they got—
The double labyrinth grew
Translation of Texts.

Martian archives—
Were syntactically sealed
Krell mind-boost needed.

The old pyramids—
Aligned perfectly with Earth
Edo exacto.

Scifaiku mind-set—
Opened up the vast bank-vaults
Deep secrets inside.

The samurai class—
With laser-swords & haiku
Were used to such things.

And so the Space Force—
Did the same thing as Japan
Bashō back again.

Shikō Munakata, Night Visit (1938)