Sommer Nectarhoff's Blog, page 4
October 6, 2014
Axioms Hiv-Hv
From "Axioms"
He rode through the desert on the back of his black stallion. His feather cape rode the wind behind him. The temple stood in the distance beneath the foot of the mountains where it had always stood. Waiting for him. It’s ceiling was high enough to brush the clouds. It’s pillars were carved from the mountains themselves by gods long gone from this world. He was their last descendant. In front of the temple stood five men, each one looking as grim as the night, and each with a...
He rode through the desert on the back of his black stallion. His feather cape rode the wind behind him. The temple stood in the distance beneath the foot of the mountains where it had always stood. Waiting for him. It’s ceiling was high enough to brush the clouds. It’s pillars were carved from the mountains themselves by gods long gone from this world. He was their last descendant. In front of the temple stood five men, each one looking as grim as the night, and each with a...
October 3, 2014
Axioms Dvii-Dviii
From "Axioms"
This morning as I was fixing breakfast I looked out the window and saw the sun rise above the clouds to spill its light upon the lilies in the garden. Just then the tallest of the lilies opened in bloom beneath the rays, heralding the dawn and welcoming the bees to come taste its nectar. I had never seen a flower throw open its doors, and I tell you that it was like magic. The blossom was so delicate, so tender. If I never see a flower bloom again I will die happy knowing I...
This morning as I was fixing breakfast I looked out the window and saw the sun rise above the clouds to spill its light upon the lilies in the garden. Just then the tallest of the lilies opened in bloom beneath the rays, heralding the dawn and welcoming the bees to come taste its nectar. I had never seen a flower throw open its doors, and I tell you that it was like magic. The blossom was so delicate, so tender. If I never see a flower bloom again I will die happy knowing I...
September 28, 2014
September 26, 2014
Heteronymy
Weirdyear has just published my story "Heteronymy". It's a creepy one but I think it's pretty cool...although I suppose I'm biased.
- 9/26/14
(nectarhoff)
- 9/26/14
(nectarhoff)
September 22, 2014
Axioms Cii-Ciii
From "Axioms"
I drew diagrams of heavenly spheres in my notebook as I sat in the back of my astronomy class, thinking myself a genius all the while. I loved to use graph paper, because graph paper is sophisticated. Geniuses use graph paper; everybody knows that. I drew arrows and symbols to mark the rotation of the stars’ axes or the paths of the planets through the firmament. I had grandiose ideas about the structure of the universe. But it was all meaningless. I am not a genius, and I never...
I drew diagrams of heavenly spheres in my notebook as I sat in the back of my astronomy class, thinking myself a genius all the while. I loved to use graph paper, because graph paper is sophisticated. Geniuses use graph paper; everybody knows that. I drew arrows and symbols to mark the rotation of the stars’ axes or the paths of the planets through the firmament. I had grandiose ideas about the structure of the universe. But it was all meaningless. I am not a genius, and I never...
September 16, 2014
Tentative de l'Impossible
Online flash fiction magazine 365 Tomorrows has just published my story "Tentative de l'Impossible". I like this one a lot, so check it out!
- 9/17/14
(nectarhoff)
- 9/17/14
(nectarhoff)
September 15, 2014
Arcane English
Sonnet 75
by Edmund Spenser
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washéd it away:
Agayne I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tyde, and made my paynes his pray.
"Vayne man," sayd she, "that doest in vaine assay,
A mortall thing so to immortalize,
For I my selve shall lyke to this decay,
And eek my name bee wypéd out lykewize."
"Not so," quod I, "let baser things devize,
To dy in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
And in the hevens...
by Edmund Spenser
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washéd it away:
Agayne I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tyde, and made my paynes his pray.
"Vayne man," sayd she, "that doest in vaine assay,
A mortall thing so to immortalize,
For I my selve shall lyke to this decay,
And eek my name bee wypéd out lykewize."
"Not so," quod I, "let baser things devize,
To dy in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
And in the hevens...
September 12, 2014
Axiom Bxiv
From "Axioms"
The Japanese painted just as they wrote; with words. They used lines, and absence, too. Much more can be shown through nothing than something if you let the imagination complete the picture. The splash of the haiku reverberates through the mind’s eye as if it were the deepest of wells. And it is. A watercolor in the old style does the same; if you could raise a mountain with one stroke, why would you ever use a hundred? And thus the icon is the key, the idea. No art can exist out...
The Japanese painted just as they wrote; with words. They used lines, and absence, too. Much more can be shown through nothing than something if you let the imagination complete the picture. The splash of the haiku reverberates through the mind’s eye as if it were the deepest of wells. And it is. A watercolor in the old style does the same; if you could raise a mountain with one stroke, why would you ever use a hundred? And thus the icon is the key, the idea. No art can exist out...
September 9, 2014
Axioms Aii-Aiii
From "Axioms"
The shape of the grain was decided long before the earth was born. Wheat and barley and rye; they’re all the same. For it is not the bread that matters, but the seed. And this seed was spilled down from the stars early in the dawn, when the sky was red and the sea was, too. The farmer does not sow the seed, although he is the reaper, for he wields the scythe that cuts the stalk. It was written long ago that he would reap what was sown, and it is by the book that the field was til...
The shape of the grain was decided long before the earth was born. Wheat and barley and rye; they’re all the same. For it is not the bread that matters, but the seed. And this seed was spilled down from the stars early in the dawn, when the sky was red and the sea was, too. The farmer does not sow the seed, although he is the reaper, for he wields the scythe that cuts the stalk. It was written long ago that he would reap what was sown, and it is by the book that the field was til...
September 5, 2014
The Strange in Poetry
Counting Sheep
by Russell Edson
A scientist has a test tube full of sheep. He
wonders if he should try to shrink a pasture
for them.
They are like grains of rice.
He wonders if it is possible to shrink something
out of existence.
He wonders if the sheep are aware of their tininess,
if they have any sense of scale. Perhaps they think
the test tube is a glass barn ...
He wonders what he should do with them; they
certainly have less meat and wool than ordinary
sheep. Has he reduced their commercial val...
by Russell Edson
A scientist has a test tube full of sheep. He
wonders if he should try to shrink a pasture
for them.
They are like grains of rice.
He wonders if it is possible to shrink something
out of existence.
He wonders if the sheep are aware of their tininess,
if they have any sense of scale. Perhaps they think
the test tube is a glass barn ...
He wonders what he should do with them; they
certainly have less meat and wool than ordinary
sheep. Has he reduced their commercial val...
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