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A flurry of coronaries in the overnight forecast,
so watch what you're putting in those arteries
and try not to get too stressed out over nothing.

Those dark clouds of fate on the horizon
could mean accident precipitation, so be alert
if you're commuting home, and if you're someone
who works with industrial machinery, well,
don't put any body parts where they shouldn't be.

Our cancer alert remains in effect
for the 1,803rd straight day (since we've been
on the air, in fact): smokers take heed!

And if you happen to be Mrs. Hilda Rigsby,
do not walk down Coralview Avenue at 10:38
this evening. In fact, don't go anywhere near
that street, not even to satisfy your curiosity
as to why you've been warned away
from a place you've never heard of.

Consider this a special gift from our fatecasters to you.
Mrs. Rigsby, we hope you're watching us tonight.

 

Copyright © 2003 Mike Allen

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Mike Allen lives in Roanoke, with his wife Anita, two rambunctious puppies and a cranky old cat. By day, he's a newspaper reporter. In his off-hours, he edits Mythic Delirium, DNA Publications' poetry journal. His poetry and fiction have appeared in Absolute Magnitude, Altair, Weird Tales, and Strange Horizons. He is the author of two poetry collections, Defacing the Moon and the newly-released Petting the Time Shark. His previous publications in Strange Horizons can be found in our Archive. To contact Mike, email hangman@infionline.net.



Mike Allen is president of the Science Fiction Poetry Association and editor of the speculative poetry journal Mythic Delirium. With Roger Dutcher, Mike is also editor of The Alchemy of Stars: Rhysling Award Winners Showcase, which for the first time collects the Rhysling Award-winning poems from 1978 to 2004 in one volume. His newest poetry collection, Disturbing Muses, is out from Prime Books, with a second collection, Strange Wisdoms of the Dead, soon to follow. Mike's poems can also be found in Nebula Awards Showcase 2005, both editions of The 2005 Rhysling Anthology, and the Strange Horizons archives.
Current Issue
26 Sep 2022

Would a Teixcalaanli aristocrat look up at the sky, think of Lsel Station, and wonder—with Auden—"what doubtful act allows/ Our freedom in this English house/ our picnics in the sun"?
I propose that The Expanse and its ilk present us with a similar sentiment, in reverse—a warning that for all the promise of futurism and technological advancement, plenty of new, and perhaps much worse futures are right before us. In the course of outrunning la vieux monde, we may find that we are awaited not simply by new worlds to win, but also many more which may yet be lost.
where oil slurped up out of the dirt, they drink the coffee
Science fiction is a genre that continues to struggle with its own colonialist history, of which many of its portrayals of extractivism are a part. Science fiction is also a genre that has a history of being socially progressive and conscious – these are both truths.
Bring my stones, my bones, back to me
If we are to accept that the extractive unconscious is latent, is everywhere, part of everything, but unseen and unspoken, and killing us in our waking lives, then science fiction constitutes its dreams.
they are quoting Darwish at the picket & i am finally breathing again
Waste is profoundly shaping and changing our society and our way of living. Our daily mundane world always treats waste as a hidden structure, together with its whole ecosystem, and places it beyond our sight, to maintain the glories of contemporary life. But unfortunately, some are advantaged by this, while others suffer.
Like this woman, I am carrying the world on my back.
So we’re talking about a violence that supplants the histories of people and things, scrubbing them clean so that they can fuel the oppressive and unequal status quo it sustains.
Issue 21 Sep 2022
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By: Cat T.
Issue 22 Aug 2022
Issue 15 Aug 2022
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Issue 1 Aug 2022
Issue 18 Jul 2022
Issue 11 Jul 2022
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