Fall 1993 • Vol. XV No. 4 Science, Science Fiction and PoetryOctober 1, 1993 |

Considering All the Moving Light, All the Stationary Darkness

Is light ever still? Not the blowing, feathery light of the fairy shrimp or the cartwheeling light-bones of the skeleton shrimp, not the shingled lake-light of wavering water in wind, not the moonlit spots of the spotted cuscus shining in the shadowy canopy of the upper forest. The light of a star, dwarfed and dead and gone a million years ago, nevertheless streaks on, and a flying spark of bonfire never stops until it moves into the permanent dark of its own disappearance. There's a barely known light, barely known of itself, bouncing in patterns ricocheting in rays in its own madness inside the brain. But darkness appears never to move. Imagine all the captured ovals of blackness shut tight inside cockle and barnacle shells ranged along the shore. Darkness stays bound in its place at the sunless bottom of the sea, in stone-blind caverns as well, their implacable rock walls dripping light. The smallest, hardest grain of dark at the center of grief never alters or shifts for sola

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Death Vision

By Pattiann Rogers

Is light ever still? Not the blowing, feathery light of the fairy shrimp or the cartwheeling light-bones of the skeleton shrimp, not the shingled lake-light of wavering water in wind, […]

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