the opposite of annihilation

You don’t get something for nothing, to paraphrase Einstein. But that’s not the same as saying you can’t create matter. How could it be? Creating matter is a fundamental premise of the Big Bang.

quark quark
a quantum duck
in Schrödinger’s box

If a Big Bang can happen once, why not again? After all, how long can the odds be in an infinity of possibilities? Surely it’s a dead cert. Frankly, I’m more concerned with whether the resultant hypervolumes can interact.

quark antiquark
a quantum duck disappears
up its own black hole

While it’s universally accepted that the Big bang created time, what the hell is going on in the dimensions without time? Nothing? Everything? Can we comprehend it? Does it warrant contemplation? Perhaps I should have a cup of tea and listen to the cricket commentary instead.

antiquark antiquark
the universe clean bowled
a quantum duck

David J. Kelly

the opposite of annihilation

etymography

Words: the building blocks of language. To me, that analogy suggests further extensions. Is an author an architect? A printer a builder? What of the reader then? Do they inhabit the structures of language? Are they residents or visitors? Perhaps they wander endless streets which link every word ever written, without ever calling one of them home, not even their own name. Then again, perhaps a metaphor may only be extended so far.

labyrinthine
lost in the words
not their meanings

David J. Kelly

etymography

vicissitude

It’s a fickle thing, time. It dawdles when you wish it would get a move on and rushes past when you’re trying to race it. I often wonder if biology is related to time. No-one ever seems to be as old as they would like to be; children want to be adults, adults want to be children. On the rare occasions people feel they are just the right age that satisfaction seems to be short-lived.

the Red Queen
pauses for breath
he won’t stand beating

 

David J Kelly

vicissitude

Occupational Hazard

My coworkers have already abandoned their cubicles, headed to the company canteen for lunch. In an attempt to get a leg up on the week’s crunch, I tap away at my terminal. Out of nowhere, my boss stands just inside the partition. He flashes a crooked smile, licks his lips. I try not to notice where his hand lingers, look back at my screen, cold stare, say nothing. He mutters something about a managers’ meeting, turns on his heel, lumbers off in a huff.

a rock
and a hard place
no office party

 

Theresa A. Cancro

Occupational Hazard

(unitled)

 

After my mother and sister died from a disease the wind blew in from ghost towns, the same white dress they both wore, in different eras, stood in the closet, as if a life of its own. I remember my sister wearing that dress while holding a prayer book, her mouth open, reciting a psalm with the congregation or pretending she was. At night, I imagined the dress freeing itself from hangers, hovering over me. I could feel it breathe. I could hear it whisper. When I worked up the courage to open my eyes and light a candle, I sat next to the old Singer machine and stuck stitching pins into my legs, just to see if I were really awake.

an unclaimed child
walks solemnly into church each Sunday
mouth open to receive The Word

 

Kyle Hemmings

(unitled)

crackin’ jack

no more surprise prize, a ring, anything, in the cracker jack box, the original junk food. no, you’ll have to settle for a code on your phone that gives you a lame game to chew on.

sailor jack
and his dog bingo
POP UP

 

Theresa A. Cancro

crackin’ jack