The Genius and the Drone by Tyler Wood


Drone Ants will walk all day looking for food for the queen, never to rise up for their own food if it is scarce.


The foundations of low-rise residential buildings are nearly all supported on spread footings, wide base (usually of concrete) that support walls or piers and distribute the load over a greater area.


Up through the gray pavement jets the beauty of nature at its height – a rose. It sprouts from the man-made stone and grease from the precious dirt that lay below to reach the sunlight. It makes its roots in land unnoticed by other flowers and is unique.


Clear styrene containers have a lid that allows easy stacking for storage, plus a wide label position for quick and easy container identification. Use these containers for supplies storage, experiment set-ups or temporary storage of student projects. Containers have lids with grooves that facilitate easy stacking and prevent one container from sliding off the top of another.


automatons with business suits clinging black boxes,
sequestering the blueprints of daily life
contented, free of care, they rejoice in morning ritual
as they file like drone ant colonies to their office in the sky


Persons of genius, it is true, are, and are always likely to be, a small minority; but in order to have them, it is necessary to preserve the soil in which they grow. Genius can only breathe freely in an atmosphere of freedom. Persons of genius are, ex vi termini, more individual than any other people – less capable, consequently, of the small number of moulds which society provides in order to save its members the trouble of forming their own character.


We found other styles of inquiry successfully developed in China, for example, in the absence of such an adversarial manner, and in the absence of any strong sense of a pluralism of political ideals. Autocratic regimes (and not just in China) may positively favour inquiry and not just in weapons technology (the Ptolemies supported that, but also anatomical research). Such was the perceived importance of order in the heavens to the political authorities in China and in Babylonia, their study received more sustained support than was ever available to Greek astronomers. The bureaucratic structures that channeled that support provided stable employment for generation after generation of workers, with undoubted advantages in terms of continuity.


When I was in Disneyland I was only 11, it was one-hundred degrees and we stood in line for an hour and a half for the new Roger Rabbit ride. My feet hurt, but this lady walked by us and told us, in an excited voice, it was worth it, so as we passed the '1 hour' sign post we stood strong in line, behind hundreds of other people waiting for this ride. The ride was five minutes long and it was not at all worth it. Now I despise long lines for anything. 


Lycanthropy, see Werewolf


Malleus Maleficarum

The Inquisition would strip the accused werewolf and torture him into confession, if there was no confession it might be enough to have incriminating marks upon the body, such as moles or excess hair, anything abnormal.


There was a patch of flowers on my drive to eastern Washington that was breathtaking. It rose from over the hill of freshly cut grass and shone like sunlight, a field of marigolds on a bright day, that bed is beauty, I just wanted to run and jump into them.


As many more individuals of each species are born than can possibly survive, and as consequently there is a frequently recurring struggle for existence, it follows that any being, if it vary in any manner profitable to itself, under the complex and sometimes varying conditions of life, will have a better chance of survival and thus be naturally selected. From the strong principle of inheritance, any selected variety will tend to propagate its new and modified form.


I get off the bus and put the paper down, fix my red tie in the gloss reflection of the high-rise building façade after the wind from the bus washes over me, and enter into my day at the office.


The Girl from Crete by Tyler Wood


The thread of blood trickled

down the scales of the snake goddess.

Her labyrinth penetrated by love

and loss. Eyes follow along the walls

in sea-foam shade. The Minotaur walks

alone. Her purist areas persist

in memory. Alone she sits, back thrust

upon her. Her thread makes him flee.

It reasserts her purity, and yet,

demonizes her nakedness.


His shadow follows him across the sky.

At the edge of the inevitable cliff;

robes in the wind, bland colors,

low light, blue sky with sharp cloud.

To him, her name an epithet. Alone

in the Piazza. Long shadows and backs.

Silk thread one direction, blood trail the other.


As he left she slept with hand on stomach;

crying that won't come on her mind.

Her hand bloodied and cracked, imitating

life. She pulls on her pubescent hair.


She boarded a ship carrying trees and arrows

to leave the island of her birth.


The Blade of Grass by Tyler Wood


She is a blade of grass amongst the forest.

Her eyes like dual sunrise

peek from behind the sheets

as the old man’s hand creaks

open the Elmwood door.

Two cracks in the ceiling let the rain

run in streams to her eyes

as she sweeps the book of Daphne in the drawer.

She tries to stay still, her eyes return to night.

The laurel tree rubs the window. A mosquito

bangs against the glass. The man sits upright

near the hearth in an oak chair

that cracks on the floor boards like a forest fire.

The sound of the room like an empty well, drips

along the walls echo. Her eyes now sunset,

crackling fire heating the old mans hands. Her body tries

to fall through the bed

to burrow in dirt like a worm.

Her heart a hummingbird,

ants whittle her skin into pieces.

He sips cold tea by the surging fire. The shadows blow

across the ceiling, the wood

black but fireflies dance in glowing circles.

He hears the sound of wind over fire,

air sucks the flames up the chimney to release.

There is a candle dying on the bedside drawer,

wind sharpens the blade, extinguishes the candle,

the tall shadow nears the bed. Her roots dig deeper,

and she ascends above the bed

ripping up the floorboards. Her skin thickens,

the ants now lifeless, the hummingbird

leaves. Her eyes daylight

above the wold

she sees a blade of grass

clinging to his sole.


The Tongue's Purpose by Tyler Wood


A handful of water – intrinsic, poetic -

like it molded its wet form for millennia

there. Only certain senses can detect it

like a whisper

A distant hum you feel, but its across the galaxy

a sway of the tall cedars or pine,

or something of the kind, that slowly

etched an echo through the landscape; claimed

battleground backbones had scoliosis.

Our toes itched to meet the hyacinth faces.

The water slipped from our ravens dish

into the faults and spaces of the bone core.

We had voices then – louder than whispers

but the rising tide drowned them out.

The caverns of eyes inspect

the ravens breath – abyss spreads.

They are ghosts – trapped in space/time -

heads arched back like sparrow wings -

appendages felled revealing metallic

consistency. Fleshy yellow intent

with radio obtuseness.

Clouds begin to look like roads

to the distance, acute triangular visuals.

Bodies rest next to their missing limbs.

Pseudo-hypnotic impulse like

the semblance of biomorphic concurrences,

the currency of motion, charged particles

react without consciousness. Surreal

reflectivity in a mass of conscious detachment.

The weight is weightless there

but the souls are labored.

We see surrounding and form

through a prism of shapelessness.

Souls react, faces just monitor.

We begin to see 1’s and 0’s.

The program is nearly complete.

The buzz begins to hiss, the radio

frequency is watery and weak;

It sounds more and more like a swaying

sycamore, dancing in the wind

but no one pays any attention anymore.

It falls to the ground floor, silent songs

remind no one of loss. The tongue

absent in its absolute purpose