In Japan, there was an ice cold assassin, that rose through the ranks of the Lin Kuei Clan.   Mid snow flurry, he could avoid every flake, and seize the brittle crystal without breaking it.  He could walk on snow without sinking in, japan's cold winter, is when he was unopposed and most ruthless--slaying debtee and their family.  His ice cold ego, came into contact with a shaolin warrior, who was trained to feel the cold, and never run away from it, nor get used to it, but feel the chill everytime without hardening his self.  Sub-Zero was defeated but not killed, and scorned to the Gods during a snowstorm, " I am the better, and was defeated by a lessor, I appeal to the powerful, give me the power of ice, so that no one shall adapt to my soul's chill, give me the power and my clan shall be in service to you."

Then a snow crystal fell, bigger than most, and he clutched it, and looked in his palm, the crystal was in the form of a pentagram.  The wind whispered, " The most cold and still realm of hell will be in your veins, if you partaketh of this crystal."  And the power of ice, that no man could withstand was at his disposal, and he was locked in a contract, that was unbreakable.

He rose to leader of the clan, and changed the color of the assasin uniform to the color of the cold region of hell, and he could not find the shaolin warrior who defeated him, and so slayed his mentor.
One hot day, his soldiers came back defeated, by a pearl diver, who refused to pay tribute to their mafia.  Sub-zero impaled the clan's soldiers who had their uniform in tatters--by raising jagged ice spears from hell.  The ice never thawed, and the men never fully died, but looked up at the high cieling from their bespearment to a mosaic of an icy and lonely realm-- a message to anyone who fails the clan--that you shall be pierced and preserved.  Sub-zero took the rest to pay a visit to the pearl diver who had stained the Clan's uniform with the blood color of disgrace.

The pearl diver, was in the bay diving down to the bottom for pearls.  He felt the water suddenly get cold, and swam upward to the surface, where he came in contact with the surface of the water, frozen over, and he saw the boots walking over the ice.  They were holding heads that leaked onto the clear ice underfoot and as the pearl diver struggled for air underneath, he saw the heads of his family dropped onto the ice.
Then Sub-zero kneeled down, holding his wife's head to the drowning pearl diver, and placed it on the ice, so he shall see the horrid picture as he drowned underneath.  The Clan took leave, from the bay.

The pearl diver did not fear death, but went mad, as he sank downward into oblivion, staring upward, rage took over his once good heart, and he turned away to look into the depths, shouting " Let me born again, so I shall live a life of fire, so that anyone who dares come close, shall be scolded, GOD OF REVENGE, LET ME BE BORN AGAIN."
The pearl diver breathed in the water unblinking, and his heart stopped, but still he lived as he sank reaching the bottom and there was a scorpion at his feet, and the depths spoke, " Let this scorpion sting both your eyes, and command the fire of hell, and be born again, to melt the ice."
He took the scorpion--who glowed hot in the dark depths-- and stung his eyes, his pupils went from his eyes, leaving milk swirls as his ovals of revenge.  " Now let it snip your lips and chin, so that you may breath the painfull sting of fire upon your enemies without singing your own flesh."

The scorpion greedily ate his lips, tongue and chin, giving him a mouth guard of skull.  " Now you are born again Scorpion, arise, and REVENGE."

Scorpion, screamed, no longer a human voice, but demonic, and grabbed the chain from his boat anchor, and climbed. Upon reaching the ice barrier, he touched his hands to it, and burned a hole and emerged forth.  He pulled up the chain with ease into the air from the depths, the metal barb on the end that served as an anchor, was now for impaling hearts and not the sea bottom.  He snapped his arm and the chain coiled around his arm, ready to sail out to impale and bring his enemies up to his eyes, so they can feel the painfull sting of fire up close, and see Scorpions eyes.
He walked to shore, his feet singing and melting Sub-zero's ice as he walked.
His walk was illusive, as a flickering flame, Scorpion could not be percieved directly without mesmerizing, as a fire in total darkness.

He reached shore, and found a Clan member, he harpooned him with his chain and barb, and brought him close to his face with his chained anchor, and melted the henchman's face with his hot breath.
He stripped him naked with his curved pearl knife, and donned the uniform of the Lin Kuei, ice blue, then the uniform turned yellow from his hot blood underneath, turning the uniform yellow as if it was boiled alive in a ***.  Scorpions' veins serpentined on his forearms, his muscles always a'sweat and full of blood .  The color of his revenge was yellow, mocking the blue Lin Kuei's uniform with the color of cowardice.

He tracked down Sub-Zero to his Clan hall that resembled the cold layer of hell with victims adorning his walls and floors that were pierced by ice sculpture and still a 'quarter alive staring at the cieling.  Sub-Zero felt the slight thaw of his ice, and knew the presence of Scorpion.  

Scorpion flickered from the torches that bedecked the walls, and burnt the guards throats with his hands so they crawled around uselessly.  When a clan member espied the demonic ninja, Scorpion was behind him, breathing on his neck, and the guard fell to the ground in three pieces.

Sub-Zero's throne room, had no torch, no fire, and Scorpion could only enter without his flame illusion through the front tall doors.  
" You have fought your way into my layer, just to realize it is a glacial tomb assassin," saithe Sub-Zero.

" Scorpions demonic voice echoed to him, " YOU HAVE MURDERED DOWN THE PATH OF LIFE, BUT THE PATH WAS THE THROAT OF A DRAGON, AND I AM ITS BELLY, YOUR TOMB OF STINGING ACID."

Scorpion took Sub-Zero's eye from him with his harpoon chain, and beat him mercilessly with kick and punch.  Sub-Zero's summoned ice but it only melted near Scorpions hatred.  But the water from the melt, slowed Scorpion--so it was hand to hand by their opposite powers, negating their satanicly endowed powers.  

But Sub-Zero was the creator of Scorpion, and so had the advantage.  Being beaten, and his face smashed, his nose flattened to his face, exposed rib slats, and his testicles smashed, Sub-Zero feigned mortal injury and non-defence as Scorpion walked up with his milky eyes to do his finishing move.

Sub-Zero's forearm protruded in injury from Scorpions kick before, and formed a sharp dagger, and this dagger sunk in Scorpions brain from beneath his chin.  Sub-Zero won with the treachery he knew best.  But Scorpion's body turned to hell's flames, and melted the layer completely drowning the wounded Sub-Zero, killing him, as Scorpion himself died the second death being extinguished in cold water of the clan layer.



They were sent back to hell, and forced to stand side by side of eachother, as Satan's servants of fire and ice--still donned in the Lin Kuei assassin robe,belt, and face-guard.
All of the magmatic, scolding statalactites dripped behind Scorpion who stood before the entrance to the fiery region of hell.  He stared forward with his scolding white phosphorus eyes.

Behind Sub-Zero, was the still and frozen layer.  He stood next to Scorpion, to the entrance of his own realm, with pupils bordered by ice frozen rivulets.  The proximity to eachother was their hell, and Satan was their master.  Scorpions pyscho hatred heat always attacking Sub-Zero's callous cruel cold, and vice versa, so as they never became adapted to the terms of hell and eternity.

Come to the zero, float in the zero
Return to the zero
Seeing in the zero, learning in the zero
Consuming in the zero.

Back to the zero, surrounded by the zero
Arranged in the zero
Mixing in the zero, pressing in the zero
Deletion in the zero.

Walking in the zero, talking in the zero
Passing in the zero
Playing in the zero, fairing in the zero
Ending in the zero.

I’ve got a song in my head
I don’t know what it’s called,
I don’t believe it has a name.
It’s catchy and I hate it.

It’s infectious, insidious,
It’s claws in deep, it’s wretched.
I’ll tap my foot while on the bus,
Slowly,
Amidst rows of other people,
Ticking their fingers,
Clicking their tongues,
To different beats of different songs,
Which they’ve all got stuck too.

I wonder if they’ve ever noticed
That some rattle out the same rhythm.

Every now and then
I’ll notice a face across the way,
Blinking,
To my toe taps.
Like this one girl,
There’s no way she could have heard me.
It was interesting.
Like a nervous tick she sat there,
Rapidly shutting the world out momentarily,
Desperately trying to forget the rhythm,
To think of another song,
Any other tune.
At least,
I imagine.

I saw another at the bar,
Prattling out the chorus with his knuckles
Against an empty glass,
Only briefly,
Before asking for another.

Every.
Day.
It’s the same ****** song.

One, two, six, eight, thirty seven, nine.
I’ve begun to make up words for it.
Eat, sleep, go to work, gotta be on time.
Seventeen, two, ten, fifty, thirty four.
See the screen, watch the ads,
Instill the fear of being poor.

Four hundred forty four trillion
Six hundred thirty six billion
Nine hundred eighty nine million
Forty six thousand and change.

I know I won’t ever be famous
I try but I’ll never be shameless
The direction I’m going is aimless
With all of my dreams out of range.

I see others, heads hung low,
Dragging a foot every other step,
Tapping their pockets in time.
It’s plain to see on some,
How long they’ve heard these sounds,
How many celebrations have been
Narrated by this drone...

Twenty two, thirty one,
Take forty five, sixty eight,
Two three four seventeen hundred wife?

I see some have given up,
Given in to resignation,
Heads bruised, walls dented,
Some mumbled sums falling through their yellowed teeth.

I see others that think it’s funny,
laughing at how it can be so bothersome.
I’ve seen them too, broken,
When a punchline didn’t come.

I saw something today though-
It frightened me.

Crossing the street,
Grinding out a slow bridge
Between my teeth,
A rock in someone’s tire tread
Providing a convenient click,
I saw a window open
And a man was there.
Or what used to be one.
As if he could hear my molars rolling
Heavily on one another,
He bobbed his head from left to right.

When he fell there was no moment of second thought in his actions.
He did not wait to be fully outside,
Presenting himself to the world
Before making a show of his decision.
It was as though,
Rather than crawling over the sill
He was crawling to the street below.
It looked so smooth,
So purposeful.
If it wasn’t for his calm demeanor
It might have looked as though he fell,
Having tripped over something in the room,
And was entirely accidental.

I think it would be more appropriate to say
He fell
A long time ago.

Possibly when he got home.
He fell in the doorway,
losing his boots by the door,
And into the kitchen.
Jacket catching itself,
Hanging neatly on a chair,
He fell towards the fridge,
where he accidentally knocked a fifth of *****
Into his mouth.
And he kept falling,
Towards his cat,
Spilling food into her bowl,
Then up the stairs he fell,
Plummeting down the hallway,
Knocking doors shut behind him as he went.
And in his room he fell so fast
His clothes flew off of him
And in the gust of wind he brought
Clean clothes were swept up
And he fell into those too,
Before,
Finally,
Gently falling out his window.

Maybe he fell before then,
When his job was automated.
Or before then,
When a judge ruled no custody.
Maybe he tripped over the body of a friend in highschool
And just never found his balance again.

I don’t know.

Paramedics were there quickly,
Vancouver’s best.
They must have been just down the street.

Still,
Before they got there
I got there.

His shoulder wasn’t where it was supposed to be,
And his elbow had popped across the sidewalk.

Still,
He was mumbling.

“Zero one double O ten zero zero,
O eleven hundred one zero zero,
Zero one one zero one one zero zero,
Zero triple one quadruple zero.
Double O one hundred thousand,
Zero one ten eleven zero one,
O eleven double O one zero one,
Zero zero one one triple one zero.”


I wish he fell farther.

It’s fine
Is what she tells everyone
This day
Like so many others.
Fears run through her,
Her mind a mess of possibility
Infinite in number and horror.
Deaths here.
Failures there.
Maybe a grave injury at best.
Can they best this foe?
Is this the end of the Sages?
Is this the end of the world?
She ponders this
Over a cup of coffee
Poured by Moojdart,
All concern and bother.

It’s fine
Is what she says as she slinks off,
Telling Mooj again and again
Don’t worry, don’t worry
It’s fine,
She can handle it.
She always can, she always must.
Grus is worried too
And Milest
And even their leader
Who’s normally too vain to care.
She brushes past them all
To go and hide away
As she tries to fix it,
As she runs through bad ends
In search of a single good.
She can’t find one
Or even the hint of one
No matter how hard she picks
At the threads of potentiality.
There’s only more worries,
Only more failures,
Which darken the flame of Hope
Burning inside
Which she clings to so stubbornly
Even though it’s not her natural Will.
She’s got to.
She’s got to cling,
Got to be strong.
She’ll fix it, she will.

There’s a knock at her door
And it opens
Before she can even say no
Because that’s just how Fiethsing is,
Because that’s just how little she cares.
Really it’s amazing she knocked,
But there you go.
You never can guess with her,
But Zero can know she’s annoyed.
She snaps at her.
An admonition, a demand
To go, to leave.
That you shouldn’t just barge in
“I mean really, Fieth,”
And it’s fine anyway.
It’s always fine.

But that’s not what she came for.
So she claims.
She’s just here to find a book,
Steal it more like,
Like she always does
And Zero’ll never see it again.
It’s just a ploy anyway,
It’s just a ploy thankfully,
Unfortunately.
Fieth sets in on the search,
Looking for a book
And not speaking a word more,
Of concern or otherwise.
She’s simply an annoyance
That rummages through her things
After barging into her space.
Fieth’s one that’ll be ignored.
Has to be, must be.
So she drinks her coffee
And goes to reading,
Or more like looking at pages
As the words blur together
From fear
Now tinted with anger.

It’s fine
And Fiethsing sighs
Finally feeling fit
To make a sound
And even words.
“Wow, it’s hot.
Don’t you think so, Zero?”
There’s more sound too
Of rustling clothes
Falling off
Onto the floor.
A shirt gone,
More than likely.
Still searching too.
She pays no mind,
As little as she can.
She has a book to not read.

A book to not read
As a thought invades her mind
Of what Fieth must look like.
******* and slick with sweat
As she digs through her shelves
Musing to herself,
“Oh it’s not here either, oh dear.”
There’s a book to not read
As an image invades her mind
Of a hug,
Of a kiss,
A touch, anything.
Contact, warm and simple.
Memories flood
And imaginings more
As she has a book to not read.

Still it’s fine,
Just fine.
She’ll just read and think
On all the ways the world can end
Because that’s better.
Better than admitting she’s scared,
Better than admitting she needs help.
Help of any sort.
A talk, advice, a decision
Or a pair of arms
Wrapped around her waist
As she falls apart
Just for a moment.

“Oh, there it is!”
Rings out Fieth’s sing song tone
And she trots on over,
For once bothering to walk
And not float.
Just so she’ll hear,
Just so she’ll know.
It’s a kindness but it doesn’t feel like it,
More like a threat
That makes her sigh
Heavy and hard
In frustration
As she turns around to see
Fieth ******* and grinning.
It’s enough to make her sick.
With fury.
With fear.
With want.
She holds out her book
Arm outstretched
As far as it can go,
A barrier between them both.
She doesn’t want to play this game,
She wants to play this game.

Fieth takes the book with glee
And a pleased, “Thank you!”
Before she rambles on and on
About dull history being her passion
Don’t you know, Zero?
It’s charming,
It’s cute
And she just wants her gone.
Gone and away
With her mirth,
Infectious as always,
And her plans,
Impish as always.
So she turns back around
And grabs another book.
Another thing to not read
As she tells herself
That it’s fine.

It’s fine
As Fieth steps forward and
rests a hand on her
Gripping her shoulder.
It’s fine
When she says, “I went a bit far
Didn’t I, Zero?”
Which she did
But it’s fine
And it’s not.
It wasn’t far enough, not close enough.
She didn’t just grab her
Right there, right then.
She didn’t just force her down
Against her desk
And whisper in her ear
Just what she’ll do to her.

So she falls to her side
Just far enough
To fall back into Fieth,
Head resting right between her *******.
The grip becomes a hug,
Arm wrapping firmly around
Her frightened frame,
So frail,
Right now, right here.

“It’s fine,”
She says again.
This time it’s the truth,
And a lie
And she closes her eyes
And she melts
Right there, right then
In Fiethsing’s arms,
Though she wants nothing more
Than to chase her off.

“Just need a moment?”
Fieth asks
With a sincerity
That she so often lacks.
She’s not going to run off.
She’s not going to lie.
She’s not going to force the matter
Even if Zero wants her to.
It’s frustrating,
The fiendish way that Fieth
Makes her fend for herself
By pushing just enough
To get a decision.

It’s fine,
Frustrating or not,
As she pushes herself up and off.
Just enough to sit up,
Just enough to lean in
As she makes a decision at last.
Her lips part
And she kisses Fiethsing.
A moan escapes her,
A desperate plea
Muffled as Fieth’s tongue meets hers
And as Fieth’s hand crawls up her front.
Up her front, to her shoulder
To her neck,
Thumb rubbing idly, intently.
Intoxicating, it’s intoxicating
That sensation and more
As she leans forward the more,
Body pressed
Against Fieth’s.
Fieth who takes hold of her waist
With a free arm
And pulls her forward and up
To get her standing.
Two bodies, pressed together.
The kiss deepens,
Desperate all the more.

Her hands snake up Fieth’s back
And her nails dig into Fieth’s back.
Fieth who breaks the kiss
As she lets out a hiss
Of pained satisfaction
And who looks down
At her
As she buries her face
Into her chest.
She’s coming undone.
She’s starting to cry.
She’s clinging as she can,
Telling herself
Over and over
That it’s fine.

It’s fine
And Fieth’s here
Resting her cheek
Against her head
And with her hand
Stroking her hair
And her other
Holding her firmly,
Tightly
Just as she needs.
Just as she needs
Until she needs more,
More than a hug
And fingers in her hair.

She slips away,
Steps on back
One step, then two
Until a boot clicks against her desk.
She looks on
Eyes pleading
As she looks on at her
Her shirtless lover standing there
Unsure now of what she wants
But so sure of what she wants.
More, her.

So Fieth steps forward herself
Hands taking to her dress,
Undoing the buttons
As Zero tries to slip out of it.
Abandoning it on the floor,
Her bra goes there next
And her underwear
And her boots too.
It all goes
Until she is laid bare
For Fieth to look upon.
Fieth who doesn’t strip entirely,
Keeping her skirt on
And her boots too.
She dips down into her neck,
Pressing her lips against
That flesh
Vulnerable, sensitive
Enough to elicit a sigh.
Enough to get a roll of the hips.
Just enough
And not enough
As she buries her fingers
Into Fieth’s hair.
Pulling, stroking,
Needing simply to feel
Her and only her.
The her that slips a hand
Right between her thighs
Right then, right there.
A finger searching,
A finger finding
Just how wet she is.
A finger searching,
A finger finding
Just how hard her **** is.
Zero finds too
Once again
Just how skilled Fieth is.
How Fieth can circle her ****
Just the right way, just firm enough.
Enough to get her biting her lip
And resting her forehead
Into Fieth’s shoulder
As she comes apart
In her hands.

It’s fine
As her knees grow weak
And her breathing quickens.
It’s fine as Fieth slides a finger in
And a second.
The welcome stretch,
The familiar tension
Makes her shiver
As Fieth reaches deeper,
Deeper inside
And as Fieth pulls out
And pushes back in.
She pulls her head back,
And lets out a moan
Saying her name
As she pulls her hair.
God she’s near,
God she’s close,
God she’s in.
In her
Both in body and soul
And it’s all she can do
But say her name again
And again.
A fevered plea
As she begs for more,
Begs for her.
As doubts begin to clear
And leave
Just for a time.
Just right here, right now
And it’s fine.

Fieth pulls out again
This time fully
Leaving a dull ache,
An urgent need for more.
She wants to swear at her,
She wants to beg to her
To go back.
Back in,
Take her right there.
She needs it, needs her.
Desperately.
Fieth doesn’t though.
She grabs Zero’s thighs
And lifts as she can.
And she gets it
Though she’d rather not.
Rather not wait,
But she does wait and she knows
And she shifts her weight
Until she’s seated right on her desk,
Until she’s pressed down on her desk.

Fingers out of Fieth’s hair
She gropes at hard wood
That’s cold against her back
While the warmth burns
Between her legs.
She looks at her,
Looks to her.
Fieth’s hands rest on her thighs
As she looks back
Right at her,
Like she sees right through her.
Because she does,
She always does.

A hand travels up her thigh
Tracing a finger across her body.
A touch electric,
But not enough.
Not enough but enough
To get her speaking, to get her begging.
“Fieth, please.”
But Fieth just grins,
Feeling her *******,
Admiring the look in her eyes.
“Fieth please just stop looking,
Just this once and **** me.”
The words excite
And torment
And her cheeks burn red,
More ashamed to say it
Than have it happen.
Yet
The word she hears back isn’t a yes.
It’s “No.”

It’s fine
Isn’t it?
What had she done?
What could she have done?
Is it ending here, now?
Is it ending with still more to go?
What could she have done,
What could have Fieth have done?
Her fears come quick
And they’re tossed aside quick
As Fiethsing’s grin widens
And she says
“I’ve got a better idea.”
That’s fine.

More than fine.
Fine as Fieth bends down
Hand resting against the desk,
The other heading right back down
To her thighs.
Right back to part her lips
And then she feels her lips
And she feels her tongue
Against her ****.
Her fears are dashed
Right against the wall
And she lets out a cry,
A trembling moan.
So satisfied, yet not at all
As Fiethsing traces her ****
With her tongue.
As Fiethsing ***** at her ****
She claws, she scrabbles
Searching for purchase on the desk.
Which can’t be found
And she can’t find words
As she bucks her hips
Against Fiethsing’s mouth.
Not concerned about noise,
Not concerned about poise
Her worries gone entirely
And only this moment exists.
Only their bodies so close
Yet not close enough.
Time fades, distance fades.
A finger slips in again,
Then two, then three
But Fieth pulls her head up
Just to get it all situated.
Just to get it right.
Zero whines,
“Fiethsing please. ”

It’s more than fine
As Fieth dips back down
And Zero grabs wildly
Looking for something to hold
To touch.
All the better if it’s her,
If it’s Fieth and it is,
Her hair.
Her hair that Zero ***** into her fist,
Her hair that she pulls upon
As the tension builds,
As the ache grows.
Until at last it rolls over,
A rush of sensation
And feeling
That shakes her body
And gets her to cry out
Impassioned, fevered ramblings
About her, about her,
God just her.
Just.
Fiethsing.

And it’s fine
As Fieth keeps working at her
Through the ******,
Past the ******
And into the pain
Of too much sensation, too much.
She moans, she whines.
She begs, she even swears
And she bangs a fist on her desk
To stifle the pain, the pleasure.

Fiethsing slides out
And sits on up
And she laughs and prods
Right at her thigh.
“I bet even Milest heard that.”
What can she do
But roll her eyes
And groan in exasperation
At that comment.
What can she do
But be glad
Glad deep down for it,
For it all.
Glad enough that she sits up,
Glad enough that she hugs Fieth.

“It’s fine.”

I watched a man die from a distance the other night at work.  
He was a patient on my unit,
                                                    a BOP, a bedded outpatient.  
Came in for a routine procedure, it ran long, so they
stuck him in a bed overnight for observation and
discharged him the next afternoon.  

Came back three days later.  
Valve exploded in his chest.  
Transferred to CVICU.  
Coded twice.  

The first code was cancelled almost immediately.  
False alarm.  Critical condition, but not a code.  
The second code they called dragged on and on and on.  

I know this because someone pulled him up on the telemetry monitor by our nurse’s station, and we watched him flatline, watched him asystole, watched his heart at zero and zero and zero.  Watched them bag him, give manual respirations.  Watched the forced waves on his flat rhythm from each compression.  Every palm to sternum.  Every electric shock caused a wave and then fell flat.  Zero.  Zero.  Zero.  Absolute zero.  Like in space or whatever.  So cold.  No life, no movement.  Zero, just zero.  Flatline.  Asystole.  No life possible, no life attainable.  
I watched him die from a distance.  From two floors above on a computer monitor.  Secondhand death.

They stopped compressing,
                                                    stopped bagging,
                                                                                   and he stopped existing.  
Became stagnant, static.  No longer
held in the balance, in the limbo,
in the purgatory between life and death.  
                                                        ­                    He crossed over and
                                                             ­             stayed at absolute zero.  

I never met him, just knew of him, so
                                                              wh­at does that mean for me?  
                                                           ­   What am I supposed to do with
           the knowledge that many of the patients I come in contact with
                          die sometimes very soon after I meet them?  

Most things I touch die.  Plants, fish, hamsters, my mother.  
We can’t spare everyone, that’s stupid.  There is
a natural order to things.  Darwinism.  Survival of the fittest.  
                                        All that *******.  

When my mother landed herself in the ICU, we knew
                                                   where she wanted her money to go, but
                not what we were supposed to do with all this ******* grief.  
                Not what to do with her body.  
                Not if we should keep her on life support to
                                                                ­                  drag out the suffering.  
She gave no directions on how to live without a mother.  

(But how do you direct something like that?
An idea so big, so lofty that directions will always fall short.)

The grief cycle will
                                     always fall short.  
Most days I don’t think acceptance is truly possible.  

Some days I’m there, and others I’m not.  
                                                          ­          It’s not linear, it’s not stagnant.  
                                                     ­                       It’s not absolute zero.  
It moves back and forth and
                                               becomes the snake eating its own tail.  
                                                         ­           Ouroboros.  

Where do you go from here?  How do you truly move on?  

I’m falling through a gas giant.  Nothing keeps hold here,
                                                         nothing keeps score (but the body).  

It’s 5:27 in the morning and I’m thinking
                                                 about that man that flatlined again.
Zero on the telemetry monitors, no heart rhythm, asystole. Spike for compression.  Nothing, nothing, nothing.  The body gets cold when there is no more blood pumping, no more heartbeat, no more brain waves; nothing to keep it warm.  Blood slowly slinks down to the lowest bend.  Becomes a bruise on the skin.  Absolute zero is the coldest theoretical temperature. No movement possible.  So cold, atoms cannot move.  Electrons cannot hum.  
                                                        The body becomes this. No life possible.

Erebus disaster - November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is Vanda Station.
We have clear weather with no cloud and little wind.
If you want to fly over the dry valleys we will flash you with our signal mirrors so you can pinpoint the station.

Vanda Station, this is NZ niner zero one
Roger, we are now just north of Cape Hallett and will call you again for directions.
November Zulu Niner zero one Vanda Station.
Roger It’s a right hand turn just after Beaufort Island.

For the next few hours
There was no word
worst feared not heard
The radio crackled through the night
In the un natural sound of SSB
All crew up drinking coffee and tea
with the midnight sun
Glued to the HF single sideband
November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is
mac centre mac centre
howcopy
November zulu niner zero one
This is
vanda station vanda station
five four zero zero
Relay relay mac centre mac centre
Please contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Relay relay mac centre
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen howcopy

All through the night
Over and over
Hour after hour
The same message
Until that fateful call
Feared by all
Mac centre mac centre
This is
navy three two one
wreckage sighting wreckage sighting howcopy

mac centre
navy three one niner
Longitude
One six sefen
Two sefen echo

Latitude
Sefen six
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre mac centre
This is
Navy three two one
Correction Correction
I say again latitude
I say again Latitude
Sefen sefen
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre
Navy three two one
Ahh ahh mac centre There appear to be no survivors
Howcopy
So it was then,
That the on board data longitude error some would blame for the crash
Is something that happens often but is accommodated by good airmanship
by not relying on one thing alone.
was repeated in similar fate
by a latitude error
in the crash site location message
from the search aircraft XD01-48321
that found a terrible sight
that the sun stayed up on late
on a truly awful night
when 257 souls met their fate.
©GARY LEWIS.2009

A zero on its own may hold no value
But add a zero to 10 and behold you get a 100
And the value of zero seems to increase exponentially
Just think in terms of 100,000, add a zero and walla! it's 1,000,000

So, it gives rise to the question
What is really the value of zero
Does Zero mean nothing?
Or does it depend on how you place it?

What if a manager said, 'the production showed zero growth rate'
Would the management shout in glee or consider firing?
Is it silly to think zero is valueless when logically
adding zero at the end of any number only makes it more by tens?

Yes, I'm certifiably crazy but that is not the point!
The point is life is full of paradoxes
So why is that we adamantly stick to one theory of belief
When any number of theories could be true or not
like birth and death and yes of course 'God'!

Erebus disaster - November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is Vanda Station.
We have clear weather with no cloud and little wind.
If you want to fly over the dry valleys we will flash you with our signal mirrors so you can pinpoint the station.

Vanda Station, this is NZ niner zero one
Roger, we are now just north of Cape Hallett and will call you again for directions.
November Zulu Niner zero one Vanda Station.
Roger It’s a right hand turn just after Beaufort Island.

For the next few hours
There was no word
worst feared not heard
The radio crackled through the night
In the un natural sound of SSB
All crew up drinking coffee and tea
with the midnight sun
Glued to the HF single sideband
November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is
mac centre mac centre
howcopy
November zulu niner zero one
This is
vanda station vanda station
five four zero zero
Relay relay mac centre mac centre
Please contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Relay relay mac centre
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen howcopy

All through the night
Over and over
Hour after hour
The same message
Until that fateful call
Feared by all
Mac centre mac centre
This is
navy three two one
wreckage sighting wreckage sighting howcopy

mac centre
navy three one niner
Longitude
One six sefen
Two sefen echo

Latitude
Sefen six
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre mac centre
This is
Navy three two one
Correction Correction
I say again latitude
I say again Latitude
Sefen sefen
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre
Navy three two one
Ahh ahh mac centre There appear to be no survivors
Howcopy
So it was then,
That the on board data longitude error some would blame for the crash
Is something that happens often but is accommodated by good airmanship
by not relying on one thing alone.
was repeated in similar fate
by a latitude error
in the crash site location message
from the search aircraft XD01-48321
that found a terrible sight
that the sun stayed up on late
on a truly awful night
when 257 souls met their fate.
©GARY LEWIS.2009

Zero One and modern blight
Travel at the speed of light.

We wondered on the Wandering Jew,
Or, in lieu,
Orthon, Urian or Lilitu.

We trepanned our empty skulls,
Searched our humours,
Were touched by Rulers!

Now troubling symptoms of want and need,
Have blighted growth of yesterseed.

Patient Zero left no lead.

East fingered West
(and vice versa)
Was Ireland really the cause of cholera?
Did Blacks languish in Tuskegee squalor?
We christened Mary, but drank the water.
Fracked Incubus and Succubus
From son and daughter.

Patient Zero left the slaughter.

We deprived women of their tea
To cure wandering womb hysteriae.
Deviances and leaking lesions
Were headwaters of women's *****.

Patient Zero has no season.

The barber sensed it might be smell,
So our widened streets became a sulfurous hell.
And wastelands swelled
Where curled cats dwelled.
(no talk of Michelangelo)

                                         II

Our children's blight has a techno name,
Like the rose, IT smells the same.
With zero tolerance I lay blame
On screens and phones and video games.

The world wide box stores flipped their lids,
Touching all who crawl the social grids;
From the base of Mammon's pyramid.

Now Jake believes he's a gangsta dude
Since posting whatever on You Tube.
Nothing to gain, nothing to lose:
No services rendered but expects what's due.

Inflated egos are a system symptom,
Clearing firewalls, reaching children.

Patient Zero is no phantom.

There is no tale of rat or flea
As cause of lost immunity.
There is no open sore to fester,
The Selfie is the X-ray picture.

Patient Zero is so much quicker.

In our gel of techno bliss,
On our elliptic petrie dish,
Bathed in more than we could wish,
Patient Zero will finish,
And with that whimper
All vanish.

A size zero

Is all I'll ever let myself be
Funny how much
A number defines my personality

Zero hope
Zero life
Zero want
Zero zero zero zero

Tiny waist
More like I'm wasting away

Wrist bones are prominent and cold

All I want to see is
My collarbones

And my brain likes to argue
With itself

you better eat or you'll go back to hell

I guess I haven't comprehended my surroundings
Because I'm already here

Heaven is a tiny hole on the roof of my hell
Light shines through rarely

She inhabits me
I am gone


The wind doesn't even miss me