Draft Preview Hiatus 1/7



Soon the space they’d opened was empty. With no one else in sight, they locked up and took off, leaving the key in the lock as requested. “So, what’s next on the list for the Homeboy Shopping Network?” asked R. Arriba.


Everyone has different protocols. Learn how to be understood in as many or as few protocols as possible. Leiv and I will just use poetry sometimes if we’re piloting our own ships in a situation.

“How do you do that?”

“Mostly, we understand each other’s language… we like each other’s taste… and we use embedded pointers from our horsing around for years together.”


This trusty vehicle had read her motions clearly and without parallax the whole time – no misreadings had interrupted her hyper-tuned mindstate, and when the jumps occurred they were distinctly a result of her actions, whatever they’d been. So, with a hint of suspicion, with her gloved arms Soleil began to comb the field of motion for the errant response.


Draft Preview Hiatus 0/7

I’ve been writing ahead. I’m going off-grid while at Tribal Gathering in Panama, holding various experimental story workshops (see you there?).

For postings from now through the Ides of March, I’m just going to share a tiny preview slice of each section draft. This is partly a fractal exercise (what tiny part can transmit some satisfying quality?), and a process sharing – parts will remain, others transform. That’s what you get for being along for the ride! I’m not even going to tag these, so this is the loyal reader exclusive.

I’ve practiced spoiler mitigation in my selections, however some things will be revealed, so if you don’t want that, come back next month!

If you don’t mind that and this seems like a fun foray into the writer’s mind, then stick around. The hiatus counter above will begin with the next post, during which every post will begin with the words SPOILER WARNING.

SF & Poetry Workshop Video; BTV2 Recap

“Far Out: Exploring the Mind With Science Fiction & Poetry”
February 8 – Seattle WA

Love Letters at Behind the Veil 2
February 14 – Port Townsend WA

At and around Behind the Veil 2, I created ~30 new love letters released to the world, an art form I dearly treasure. These were rolled into scrolls, tied with a charming yarn, and edges burnt.

A couple requesting letters to each other, waiting to read them at their hotel room on her best Valentine’s ever… one to a cat… one for a father who recently passed… one to a passion for aviation… a stage prop containing a 2-person-wordplay… and some to selves, a message I am honored to help deliver. An extraordinary evening!

I came up with a scribe stamp for the back – “via ele.” – to describe that these are the sentiments of the sender as interpreted by another. Clarifies the origins and elevates the offering. I was never informed as to this practice but it was my best solution to minimize confusion without claiming complete ownership, but retaining some accountability.



Port Townsend Love Letters Tomorrow; Family Night Recap


Love letters via red-ribbon typewriter, at your service. Find me in Port Townsend tomorrow night, Feb. 14 at Behind The Veil 2 – a lingerie masquerade, held in the American Legion.

The community feeling and the atmosphere at Family Night were spectacular! Below, I am pictured at my live art table plying glue and strange items. The second is one panel’s progress upon layout (hint: that’s Charles Darwin’s study!). A link to workshop video will be added to this post soon!





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The thirteen-year-old boy had thought that sitting in the pilot’s seat of Drift 9 would feel less dramatic, but with the captain on his right, feeling the pedal sliders under his own feet gave him a case of the wide-eyes. For her part sitting co-pilot, Wendel Harper understood completely. “Go ahead,” she said.

He did. Drift 9 sailed toward and through the flotsam terrain ahead, which had enough space between for a fulfilling sense of dimension and speed. They promptly brushed a slowing factor.

“Okay,” said Wendel with a collected manner as she gestured toward his main navigational screen, “read your routes. Under our own impetus, even small gravitational fields engage atmospheric immersion controls, which I am not yet teaching you.”

Toller leaned in to focus on the navigation screen, which reminded him again of a multi-rotational sports diagram. “So, don’t bump the edges like that.”

“Correct. Move between the shapes.” Settling back in, Wendel raised her hand to offer him the road. He took a very conservative elongated sinusoid path through a wide, soft corridor into another vast ‘meadow’ (pilot lingo for a clear space). Once in the open, Toller whirled the ship around before stopping it, as he’d seen Wendel do a few times already.

Her laughs echoed beyond the stillpoint. He was good! He would not be baggage. “That was really well done. Since you’ve been reviewing your orientation calls, angles, degrees, and rates, I’d like to hear how you’d announce that maneuver to your crew and teammates.”

“You didn’t announce it…” Toller tried to pinpoint a specific instance.

“We can’t always, but do it now.”

“180-to-fullstop, tilt negative-60, minus rate 7.”

Wendel approved the boy’s announcement with a nod. “Everyone has different protocols. Learn how to be understood in as many or through as few protocols as possible. Sometimes Leiv and I will just use poetry to announce to each other.”

“How do you do that?” A little winded from his own boldness, Toller leaned back to relax in his chair with the ship at peace.

The captain-copilot also took a moment to relax. “Mostly, we understand each other’s language; we like each other’s taste; and we use embedded pointers from our years of horsing around together.”

Leiv appeared in the hatch. “I hear the call of poetry,” he smoldered to his lady love.

“You heard right,” she replied in an exaggerated purr.

He began. “D’Orann: Ask me where I dance, and I’ll say up.”

“Orak’x: Reaching a conclusion offers no conclusion.” Her reply was ready as soon as he completed his initiatory line.

“Srevz: Long winds carry scent of a treetop reaching toward me.”

Rotating from the co-chair and reaching over to Toller’s side to shift control command, Wendel remarked, “These are all Jennian poets.”

Striding across the cockpit with added flair, Leiv reached in to romantically cradle Wendel’s head. “Then let us tango in Jennian style.” She succumbed to a complementing swoon, then winked at Toller as she came out of it. “Straps,” was all she said next. Toller clipped himself in, Leiv scrambled into the fold-down, and Wendel proceeded to demonstrate their style of tango with her ship.

She mused to her companions while guiding them through a graceful corkscrew-vertical-bust-vertical. “Understandable to each other, unpredictable to others – inspired movement can be lifesaving. It somehow slices through chaos fractals; nature likes poetry too, it’s less likely to hit you with rocks. This kind of concerted unpredictability is our friend if for some reason something is out to get us.”