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Caiman Eyes
By P. J. Fischer
The devil’s blood
Blackens
With the ooze of life.
Toxic tannin
Seeps out of
A darkening sky.
In us
It is mere
Adventure.
To Float
Secure on this quiet
Killing artery.
Sitting so many safe
Centimeters above
A horrid fate.
Happy fools,
Safe
In the little boat.
Safe from the
Cold depravity of
The Caiman’s eyes.
Safe as
Lightning flickers
White on the horizon.
Seduced
By fairies
And fireflies.
Hunted
By the furies
At the water’s line.
We leave,
Fish flying into our arms
Escaping the bowels below
Copyright 2009 P. J. Fischer
[Close]
Fishing Bats
By P. J. Fischer
Life’s hard enough
For fish.
We don’t need
Another problem.
When it’s dark
We get some
Relief
From the people.
Now,
The bats
Have taken up
Fishing.
So, we talked it over
And some said
We’d make it up
In volume.
But it just didn’t seem
Fair.
So
We went to Solomon, the judge,
To get some
Relief.
So he subpoenaed
The bats.
Who said
It wasn’t their fault.
They’d learned it from
The people.
So he subpoenaed
The people.
Who said
It wasn’t their fault.
They’d learned it from
God.
And when he called on God,
The court
Dissolved in the knowledge of
Good and Evil.
Copyright 2009 P. J. Fischer
[Close]
And the Mummy Wasn’t There
By P. J. Fischer
Down the dark, stifling corridor, past this
black vault or that, over the pit, into the
darkness, when you think you can’t breathe,
you meet Howard Carter and he shows you
the burial chamber with the golden sarcophagus.
He asks you if you know his friend, Schrodinger.
Wonders if you have ever seen his cat.
“We need to get to the bottom of this,” he says,
“Can’t have both Heisenberg and Einstein right,
you know.”
“But I just came to see the mummy, Howard,”
I said, rather plaintively. “Can’t this wait?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “It’s affecting the work.
All this talk of god playing with the universe. It’s
damned unsettling. Can’t know if anything is
here ‘til you touch it. If you don’t touch it it’s here
and somewhere else too.”
“Howard,” I said, “it’s hot in here.”
“Well if you want to know about god and the
universe, you have come to the right spot.”
I didn’t. I just came to see the mummy.
“Howard,” I said, feeling faint, “just open the
box.”
“What rot. You just want to know if he’s here or
not. Of course he’s here. But if I open the box and
he’s not, he’s gone forever.”
“HOWARD!”
“Really. All right,” he said, visibly perturbed.
“You Yanks.”
He opened the golden box. It was empty.
“Good lord,” I said.
“Gone,” he said. “This one’s in heaven.”
Copyright 2009 P. J. Fischer
[Close]
The Laser Show At Giza
By P. J. Fischer
Time is so lumpy
It was five
Millennia ago,
—BC 3000—
How many Japanese Tourists
Does it take to build a
Pyramid?
A hundred thousand.
It took a hundred thousand.
Plus three
Pharaohs.
And a laser which
surprised us
together
caught us, trapped us
together
in space
at this time.
Time Skipping
The desert’s
disdain
The Sultan’s
disfigurement
The debaucheries
The despair
Time Joining
The promised
light
The Million
ancients
The Billion
moderns
Time’s Gift
The immortals
At first light
At midnight
Copyright 2009 P. J. Fischer
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