Martian Time-Slip
Canals lie void of water in the dust,
This is the dream…to stand here and see this:
See old men die wrapped up in tubes and rust.
A home on Mars. Beyond it, space, abyss.
Reality inside the schizoid mind?
Through blight and death, decrepitude and mold,
A child alone to future isn’t blind.
His madness lets him see himself grow old.
Beneath each man a horrible machine;
At least that’s how the world begins to feel.
Harrowing decay, veiled behind a screen
Am I tripping? Or is this arrow real?
On Mars the only men of wisdom say:
“Gubble, gubble, gubble, time rots away.”
From the Archives:
Space Canon review of The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch
