SCIFAIKUEST
NOVEMBER 2024
Peeking by Andy Graber
Happy Halloween and Happy Autumn! I hope you enjoyed cavorting in costumes this past Halloween! You’re never too old to enjoy dressing-up! Wishing all of you a very Happy Thanksgiving from Scifaikuest, and a Merry Christmas, too!
Scifaikuest finally has its own ISBN!!! Please inform your local bookstores and library that they are now able to ORDER SCIFAIKUEST!!!
You can always find us here, at Hiraeth Books at: https://www.hiraethsffh.com/home-1
If you don’t have a subscription to our PRINT edition, they are available at:
https://www.hiraethsffh.com/product-page/scifaikuest
And, if you would like to join the select group of contributors by submitting your poetry, artwork or article, you can find our guidelines at: https://www.hiraethsffh.com/scifaikuest
Pssst! Looking for something good to read?
You can get t.santitoro’s newest book, The Red Foil, a SF mystery, at:
https://www.hiraethsffh.com/product-page/red-foil-by-t-santitoro
You can also get her newest novella, Those Who Die, at:
THOSE WHO DIE by t. santitoro | Hiraeth Publishing (hiraethsffh.com)
You can also order t.santitoro's novella, Adopted Child, at:
https://www.hiraethsffh.com/product-page/adopted-child-by-t-santitoro
And you can still get a copy of her vampire novelette, The Legend of Trey Valentine, at: https://www.hiraethsffh.com/product-page/legend-of-trey-valentine-by-teri-santitoro
Halloween dress-up
wondering if that costume
is the real you
(xeno-unit)
***
SCIFAIKU
moving the space needle
to saturn’s rings
a record for our home system
Royal Baysinger
*
exodus from the rising sea
humanity parts
to seek dry ground
Royal Baysinger
*
transient moonlight
astronauts check
for any change in their consoles
Royal Baysinger
*
at the wormhole’s rim
time collapses in spirals
scents of wild garlic
John Hawkhead
*
our first kiss
something strangely awkward
the taste of dried blood
Richard E Schell
*
lunar
antimatter bomb tests
the rings of Terra
David C. Kopaska-Merkel
*
starship window
shooting silently
in the dark
Mark Gilbert
*
through this tiny porthole
more stars
than I knew existed
Mark Gilbert
*
"Ending World Hunger"
Matthew Wilson
cloning frogs legs
accidentally creating monster
too fast to catch
*
traditions evolve
Herb Kauderer
colony wedding
low gravity changes things
champagne toast through straws
*
sublimations
Herb Kauderer
your inner eyes are blue
like the oceans of terra
a love remembered
*
genetic tweaking
prescient power unlocked
Vegas in ruins
Randall Andrews
***
white snake
whiter still
lit by two moons
Richard E Schell
*
SCI(NA)KU
shapeshifter Halloween party
costume judging
irrelevant
Lauren McBride
***
SENRYU
ghost ship Immanuel
Benjamin Whitney Norris
dreamed I wasn’t lost
poring over star charts
in cryogenic sleep
***
HORRORKU
torn from the frozen ground
Benjamin Whitney Norris
torn from the frozen ground
a corpse in frog pajamas
reawakening
*
scalpel
Benjamin Whitney Norris
scalpel in a cloned hand
clumsily dissecting
the real ME
*
millstone
Benjamin Whitney Norris
by Riker’s millstone
desiccated hearts
finely ground
*
consummation
Benjamin Whitney Norris
shaking before her
cold dead eyes
aflame
*
slow to anger
Benjamin Whitney Norris
slow to anger
drowning nine more “witches”
in the river Fleet
*
horrible ending
to Halloween party
we become our costumes
Guy Belleranti
*
pre-broken romance
Herb Kauderer
the sins I carry
could turn coal to diamond
for you I sparkle
Caped Fear by Benjamin Whitney Norris
***
TANKA
mechanical bureaucracies
Herb Kauderer
love frozen by time
and cryogenic storage
hearts warm like comets
the ship’s computer pauses
then grants lovers’ reunion
***
ONE-BREATHS, (also Contrails, Tritrails)
ZIP ONE-BREATH
spacesuit boots arch supports unnecessary
Lauren McBride
***
OTHER FORMS (including: Sijo, Fibonacci, Cinquain, Minutes, Diminuendo, Ghazals,Threesomes, Brick, etc.)
RICTAMETER
Icarus
Journey
So high it burns
So high you lose your Self
So high to find Reality
So close to Ultimate Transcendence—bright
Ideas beyond all thought, all knowledge . . .
Yet know you’ll pay the price.
Find courage to
Journey
Doug Gant
*
Strategic Air Command
Falling
Across the Pole
Computers show the path
No message from outside, no sign
An error, or a real attack yet come?
Retaliate, or wait for word?
How can I decide, when
All the world is
Falling
Doug Gant
*
FIBONACCI
Salvage
the
ship
airless
pitted hull
desiccated crew
slow movement in our warm dark hold
David C. Kopaska-Merkel
***
JOINED POEMS (incl. renku and sedoka, joined fib. etc.)
JOINED FIBONACCI
his
dream
was to
scare others
so he moved into
a famous
haunted
house
and
after
a short time
the screaming began
with each scream
being
his
own
Guy Belleranti
*
KASEN RENKU
The Wine-dark and Everything in it
Amber Winter and Joshua St. Claire
adorning her tail
an orichalc chain
Gates of Atlantis
not wanting to be underdressed
the angler seduces a mate
the sea sprite
lays her trap
geoduck
scuba diver bragging
shows off his mussels
Light of the Sturgeon Moon
the water witch reads
the potion ingredients
squid ink
the blackness of the deep
bioluminescence
the ray rages
at the rave
an asteroid hits the Pacific
mile-high tsunami
a hole in one
Poseidon’s defeated
Triton takes the cup
Apep twists beneath Ra’s boat
jaws unhinged he swallows the sun
Jonah lives
the whale left to swallow
its pride
microchipped walruses ambush
the nuclear submarine
finding the pearl
with only his tongue
moonlight clam digging
having got what he came for
Davy Jones sinks back into the salt
sunken treasure
the last air bubble
in the Titanic
the Eltanin Antenna
records their final screams
sonar beeps
the outline of a sea monstress
Nessie’s mother
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu
R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhta*
carving the basalt
of the Yonaguni Monument
tentacles
sea elves feeding Lō’ihi hot sauce
giant tube worms
the wine-dark
and everything in it
thirst of Charybdis
Nereids playfully circle
Scylla too distracted to attack
sparkling
an unidentified submerged object
materializes
gray men with fins surge out
then shape-shift into coral
a herd of seahorses
settle in
a deadly mistake
sirens sent to the rescue
they lure zombies into the Dead Sea
asleep for centuries
Jormungandr
shifts his haunches
angelfish guides
the black swallower toward the light
Jupiter full
the eyeless beasts below
couldn’t care less
excited caged tourist learns
why they call them great whites
red tide
the sea hag tries
a new hair dye
AI hides from its creators
in the Mariana Trench
Lyonesse walk of fame
adds James Cameron’s starfish
for Deepsea Challenger
five directions for the drowned:
north, south, east, west, and down
unseen hands
tending forests
of sea lilies
molting mermaid
shells shed for delicate petals
*From the Cthulhu Mythos
***
HAIBUN
Eggshell
David C. Kopaska-Merkel
The seas and atmosphere had evaporated long since. The slow grinding of plate tectonics, and its epiphenomenal quakes and eruptions, were the main destroyers of abandoned cities. These were far less efficient than water would have been. In the absence of wind, neither sand nor silt was moved to bury any remnants still more or less intact. Thus when a few of humanity's greatly changed descendants were moved to visit their ancestral home, much architecture remained to wonder at, though little else. Trillions of undiscovered fossils languished in their beds.
Tri-dee shot
they left only hoofprints
the sun set unseen
*
Power Outage
Denise Hatfield
2020 was a tumultuous year full of many life altering events. Every day it seemed we were playing on an apocalyptic horrors Bingo card. Shouting Jumanji at the end of the day became a running joke. The world was ravaged by a fast replicating and ever-changing virus. Each variant and wave brought forth a whole new plethora of issues. When the first reports of zombie attacks arrived on social media, it was flagged as false information, until the macabre incidents made all the news networks. All the AR-15s and other guns made a difference at first, but ammo was costly and in limited supply due to supply chain issues exacerbated by the pandemic. It was discovered by accident that distraction was ultimately the best weapon against the masses of the undead. Tv’s, projectors, tablets, anything with a screen was placed outside. The hordes were mesmerized and immobilized by screen time. The digital weapon of choice that seemed to work best was the news stations. All the major and large networks are on 24/7, 365. That strategy worked well for two and half years, until mother nature threw a curve ball. Wildfires and severe weather ravaged and waged its own war, knocking out our main defense system: power and electricity.
stench of rotted flesh
snapping teeth rend
infection spreads
***
ARTICLE
Landscapes of Other Worlds
Robert E. Porter
Children in school these days stare at screens. Past generations looked out through a screen, and that made all the difference in the world. Imagine… Edgar Rice Burroughs gathered rising storms in his windsock. He bottled lightning and sold it right back to those with their heads in the clouds. Princess of Mars, Gods of Mars, Warlords of Mars, etc.
Snake oil for daydreamers. Elbow grease for escape artists.
If only…
What if…?
Jimmy John Carter looked up at the red planet, and there he was -- freaky-fast. That’s science fiction. From Leigh Brackett’s planet stories and Ray Bradbury’s chronicles... to today’s Star franchises. All ground out by the same warped drive: Away from boring classrooms, or drudge work! Off to other worlds -- which made a Porlock of Xanadu, a Porker of Spiderham, a po’ boy of Mannerheim.
Sure, the pulps drew their landscapes from the local sandlot, comic strippers, or the National Geographic. But they can all be traced back to cave paintings. Burroughs, Brackett, and Bradbury had their Analogs in the Neolithic. Bards of falling stars, or heavenly beasts… Shamans to shades of the underworld. Without a written language, their visions and oral poetry (prophecies) more easily merged.
And the beat goes on:
“In Chinese artistic tradition, poetry and painting retain a symbiotic relationship and are so subtly interwoven that one wonders whether the poem inspired the painting or vice versa,” said Shanghai professor Kent Su. “The landscape the viewer experiences is created layer upon layer, each layer superimposing experience over experience, until he or she is saturated in the landscape. The painter often uses delicate brushwork to create an illusion of vast space and to efface a sense of ego…” (Su, 183)
I still get a kick out of Frank Frazetta-like paperback covers. They hooked me. Their underlying words, layer by layer, proved indelible. They had the power of myth, but uncorrupted. No real person killed or died for these imaginary landscapes. That made them morally superior to any mythology I was taught to believe.
Wouldn’t the old Chinese poets and painters agree?
“[T]he devastations brought by war and ruthless exploitation, indignation at the ruling class, and a personal sense of guilt and shame at one's comfort vis-a-vis the destitution of those whom one is duty-bound to serve, all became major motifs in the farmstead poetry of compassionate reformers,” said Hong Kong scholar Charles Kwong. “In time, this social realism shows more trust in the eloquence of the facts themselves, manifested in a more subdued tone and balance in observation and empathy.” (Kwong, 72)
Generations of Americans escaped their insular comforts and mind-numbing routines. They vacationed in the anthropocentric world-building of science fiction and horror.
Chinese poet-painters of old fled from warring states and upheaval. They found accord with their natural surroundings. That seemed more reliable and necessary. So, in picture-poems they showed humanity and the humanities as motes in the cosmological eye.
“The exiled scholar-officials,” Kent Su said, “began to visualize and depict landscapes through poetry that carries the distinctive emotional connotations of their utopian ideals.” (Su, 182)
Yet:
“Chinese farmstead poetry,” said Kwong, “is marked by a firm note of realism.”
(Kwong, 60)
Has nothing changed?
Science fiction and horror, too, dance to a utopian rhythm with discordant notes of realism. Excavate J.G. Ballard and Moorcock’s New Wave; you’ll pass through the junk-ridden bowels of William S. Burroughs and come to that old buzzard Ezra Pound, who feathered his own nest with Chinese landscape poetry.
For ex., Canto IV
Gilt rafters above black water,
Three steps in an open field,
Gray stone-posts leading…
(Pound, 16)
Leading to the asylum for Pound, who pitched for the fascists during WWII. Literary modernists and sympathizers among his Psycho therapists saved him from the Nuremberg gallows. He never recanted, so far as I know.
45 cantos later, he wrote:
A light moves on the north sky line; where the young boys prod stones for shrimp.
(Pound, 245)
Here, Pound took up the alternative to farmstead poetry. Xi Lingyun’s style, which rises to snowy peaks and comes down in white water. A difference of emphasis, that’s all. Each “similarly imbues its descriptions of landscapes with the philosophy of Taoism,” said Kent Su, “shaping the landscapes into forms of spiritual enlightenment.” (Su, 180)
Pound proved more benighted than enlightened.
Henry David Thoreau, on the other hand, no ex-patriot, and certainly no friend to slave-drivers, was more like those Chinese poets. Each disengaged from the horrors of “civilization” as he knew it. They refused to pimp for tyrants, never cowed to the butcher’s block. When they set pen or brush to paper, they expressed themselves, refusing to share the latest weaponized meme, or drink the Kool-Aid of some trending pop cult. So, they produced enduring classics.
Pound had weight, though. He inspired better work in others (Eliot, Joyce, Keats, etc.) than he himself seemed capable of. The popularization of haiku and Eastern philosophy in the West owes much to him. Otherwise, Jack Kerouac might have cranked out pulp fiction instead of being a Dharma Bum. Alan Watts might have turned on and burned out other bulbs.
William S. Burroughs didn’t leave that kind of legacy. Everyone knows Edgar Rice’s Tarzan, and John Carter clones go marching on, while the Junkie rusts away in some den of iniquity. Red dust blows across a Martian plain. Drones crawl along the ridgeline, calling back to base in a pentatonic falsetto. A new song by Li Po, describing the latest painting by Hokusai, translated into Python, arranged for Moog synthesizers and drum machines. Between musical notes, lines of code: The world’s finest scifaiku and haiga -- extraordinary visions, extraterrestrial landscapes -- encrypted for your A.I.s only.
WORKS CITED
Kwong, Charles. “The Rural World of Chinese ‘Farmstead Poetry’ (Tianyaun Shi): How Far Is It Pastoral?” Literature: Essays, Articles, Reviews, 15 (1993)
Pound, Ezra. The Cantos of Ezra Pound. New Directions, .
Su, Kent. “Landscapes and Taoism in Ezra Pound’s Cantos.” Neohelicon, 2021
***
FEATURED POET Joy Yin
child and alien
Under the moon
Friendship
pungent smell wafts from
the kitchen
fresh witch’s brew
flowers bright as day
poison their
extraterrestrial blood
dirty swimming pool
nurturing millions of
mutant mosquitoes
dead unicorn
on the road
schizophrenic driver
dog barks coming from
neighbor’s house
trapped werewolf
junkyard with
heaps of metal
robot diner
another normal day
walking home from school
birds fall through the sky
icy drop hits
my bare arm
neon rain
humongous strawberry
fills my bedroom
science fair experiment gone astray
strange clothes
discovered on Mars
have eight sleeves
human heart
sliced in half by
alien lover’s fingers
space ship rocket
refuses to take off
fear of heights
newly upgraded frog
leaps high
to the stars
convenience store candy
crafted by
Martian master of sweets
cosmic tentacles confined
to a teddy bear’s
soul
alien child finds
toy doll in the ruins
a new toy
night on the farm
UFO lands outside
distant cousins
under the guise of night
cyborgs camp out
barbeque old laptops
guitar strums are
heard from Mars
the enslaved humans reside
celestial being at the gym
mistakes the weights
as torture devices
***
INTERVIEW WITH FEATURED POET Joy Yin
How long have you been writing poetry?
I’ve been writing poetry since I was introduced to it in the second grade, but I only started considering myself a poet during quarantine, when I began to use my free time to craft poetry in both English and Chinese. Although I’ve only been publishing my pieces in lit mags and anthologies since 2023, I’m very excited for my journey to come.
Do you write poetry other than genre poetry? If so, what kind?
I also write free-verse poetry, but I enjoy writing speculative poetry the most because I love how we can use our imaginations to incorporate sci-fi ideas into our poetry.
Who is your favorite poet?
My favorite poets include Poe, Maya Angelou, and Robert Frost. I like how their poetry has a certain feel to it. How their poems feel powerful and empowering.
What/who is your main inspiration?
Believe it or not, daily life! I draw a lot of inspiration for my scifaiku from daily life, and a huge part of my process is combining speculative elements with real-life situations and activities.
Did you begin writing haiku before you branched out to scifaiku?
Yes. I felt connected to the form right away, and wanted to write more of it. However, I found it a bit difficult to express myself but also stick to the syllable count as well.
How did you learn about scifaiku?
From discovering magazines that publish it, actually. I started to read more speculative poetry and eventually realized that this form has a name: scifaiku. However, it was Scifaikuest that officially got me to know more about the form and eventually, publish some of my own.
What poetry magazines do you read/contribute to?
I read and contribute to Scifaikuest, Triya, Cold Moon Journal, Star*line, Spectral Realms and more.
*
Joy Yin Biography
Joy Yin is a writer, poet, and artist from Wuhan, China, though she has also lived in California. Joy has always had a love for reading and writing. As of now, she has works either forthcoming or already published in Skipping Stones Magazine, Scfaikuest, Triya, Star*Line, and more. She's currently 14 years old and attending an international school in Mexico City. In her free time, she likes to curl up and read a good book (however, she doesn’t quite like rereading). Find her on Instagram at @joyyinm88.
***
FAVORITE POEM
ZIP ONE-BREATH
spacesuit boots arch supports unnecessary
Lauren McBride
How could any poem be so concise and so delightful at the same time???--t.santitoro, editor
***
BIOS
Randall Andrews is a speculative fiction writer and poet from southern Michigan. When not writing, he can be found wearing the soles off a pair of running shoes, listening to his favorite John Williams soundtracks, or hand-feeding his loyal flock of wild songbirds.
*
Royal Baysinger lived most of his life on a small farm in Arizona before moving to Germany, then Canada. He has an MA in German and is currently living in Quebec where he is slowly learning French from his supportive wife and son. His short fiction and poetry have been featured in several publications and collected in anthologies.
*
Doug Gant has been an avid reader of science fiction and fantasy for many years. His interests in folktales and mathematics allow him to meld the mythic and the analytic.
*
Mark Gilbert writes short and medium prose and poetry. Which are occasionally set away from the Earth’s surface or employing alternative points of view.
*
Andy Graber: I self taught myself how to draw, use pastels and to paint.
*
Herb Kauderer walks the waterfront of Lake Erie stealing poetry ideas from seagulls.
*
Lauren McBride finds inspiration in faith, family, nature, science, and membership in the SFPA. Nominated for the Best of the Net, Pushcart, Rhysling, and Dwarf Stars Awards, her poetry has appeared internationally in speculative and mainstream publications for young adults and adults, including Asimov's and Fantasy & Science Fiction. Her chapbook, Aliens, Magic, and Monsters, is forthcoming from Hiraeth Publishing. She enjoys swimming, gardening, baking, reading, writing, and knitting scarves for U.S. troops.
*
Richard E Schell works in the biomedical field in California. He enjoys writing and has published over 100 articles and other works in both the biomedical field as well as in fictional genres and poetry. He enjoys photography literature and travel. He also volunteers in animal rescue.
*
Joshua St. Claire works as a an accounting director for a large non-profit in Pennsylvania, USA. He enjoys writing on coffee breaks and after putting his kids to bed. His speculative poetry has appeared in Star*Line, Dreams and Nightmares, Scifaikuest, and in the publications of Starship Sloane. His poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and the Rhysling Award. His work in short forms has appeared in the Dwarf Stars Anthology and was long-listed for a Touchstone Award.
*
Amber Winter is a married mother of three boys. She is a trained meat cutter, cosmetologist and formerly worked in finance. She enjoys passing time at the playgrounds writing poetry while her boys run out their energy. Her poetry had been published in Scifaikuest, cattails, Ribbons, tsuri-doro, Prune Juice, and Star*line. She is a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Rhysling nominee.
