“Abruptly-” by Shalini Singh

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

god is

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.

abridged, necessarily

—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

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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.

Image Credit