Hotaru ika are a glow-in-the-dark species, hiding in the translitic
a mesmerizing light courtesy
of a network of thousands of photophores, drifting long hairs of a wild woman
situated over their 3-inch of space. While most sea creatures
like the Hawaiian bobtail squid, borrow their radiance
from symbiotic bacterial colonies, generating texts by rolling dice
the many-pot creativity- these tiny cephalopods are a rare species that generates
its own light, a slight aleatory element, an acrost
the trance and seductive logic of symbolic fantasy
an experience, a story, a piece of music, a set of images- That which will
never be tidy in the composition of poetics of the wild wild sea
Some enigmatic ocean fireflies dwell
far from human sight at a depth of 600 to 1200 meters, possible genesis in an actual event.
art swallowing the laws of the prerational, meta-logical, and wallowing the super-real.
a place in the ocean that marine biologists
refer to as the twilight zone, to suspend the impulse to impose.
a hint elsewhere to save from ourselves
there are remnants of artificial light, imagery that is not soon forgotten,
on the ocean, with water, with sea- from
midnight to early morning, so the blue light of firefly squid
appears even more beautiful in the darkness; disconcertingly strange
like a passage from Carl Sagan’s book Pale Blue Dot.
A.brasiliana sets its egg capsules in an autonomy, free. the union with
the neurotic union with an earthly lover. A sea lover, too
the milky or translucent spheres of motion, color, excitation
float through the water close to shore, propelled by the breeze
in nethermost depths, lives suspended in a big ocean.
—images which are too apt to connote blissfulness
If the snails are star-crossed, they slide into the surreal: the capsules don’t stay there.
fierce waves, parse odd fragments together. Storms finding portent reasonings
can fling the eggs up onto the sand, cloaked in a drugged calm with
a germinating experience of thousands of eggs in bands along the shore,
creating the impression
of big fibril of pearls marking the high-water line.
an idiom closer
to the miraculous intensity of the world
those that don’t die by beak wind up desiccating in the sun.
Rotting, sunny, rot
Shalini Singh is trying to find how to fit Law, which was her main chunk in the professional world into her writings and how she can make finances and tech creative enough for a telling. She thinks some Laws are painful experiences and most times they should not exist. Because Shalini could not change the world with Law as her spouse, she wishes to change her world by her writings, however lonely it gets.