dead drunk dublin and other imaginal spaces
this is the way home poetry - written and spoken stories and creative writings alternative writings, prose, essays, reportage manifestos, insights, alternative views music mp3 original music eyes to see with movies, flash and animations links - click here to read reviews of our favourite websites click to subscribe to our occasional ezine all about dead drunk dublin info on how to contribute to dead drunk dublin

The Orion Nebula from
Observations of interstellar molecules
by Albert Nummelin

Hours of life on this planet

by john hudak

I was lying on the ground in front of someone's house watching the stars, the constellation, Cassiopeia. I saw the trails before I even used the binoculars. I knew about the trails through time-lapse photography. I knew about the trails through hours of watching. I would think about the stars and their paths through the sky, and then would see the paths as though they had always been there, as if I had never seen the singular stars themselves.

People became eventually the same as the stars to me. People left trails I could see, and before long, I began seeing trails and not the people. And like the stars, whose brightness varied with age, the trails of people would have an end I could see.

Watching people I knew that died, I was later able to judge the approximate length of hours of life a person would have on this planet. I would look, knowing it would not make a difference, because there was nothing that could be changed. The trail either faded, or abruptly dropped off. How the life was lived was a matter of little importance. I began to watch the stars again.

I was lying on the ground in front of someone’s house watching the stars, constellation, Orion. The trails were steady patterns: where one pattern stopped, another picked up. There was always space between the lines. The lines were unimportant to the other lines. I noticed that at times one set of lines started almost precisely where another left off.. a continuance.

I started to notice this same phenomenon with the people I observed. The patterns continued where others left off. Continuance was an aspect of life. It was an aspect that perhaps could be thought about. Other than pure physical continuance that I could see, perhaps there was a continuance of thought.

I was lying on the ground in front of someone’s house watching the stars, constellation, Pleiades. I turned on my side and picked a blade of grass. I wondered how long it could be before I could pick every blade of grass in the yard, one by one.


First published in Ozone : A Map of Alternate Realities, Philadelphia 1992.











to contact the editor, email or use our contact form here
all contents copyright © 2007 all rights reserved - redmoonmedia, publishers - authors rights are protected

site design by redmoonmedia