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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 10, Number 3, September 2016
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Marilyn Humbert
Sydney, New South Wales, Australia


Not the Big Bang Theory

the gods’
lone worker
wakes—
a fugue of angels
proclaims creation

He stretches in blackness, perceives the boundaries of his confinement. He doesn’t remember life before, but he recognises the touch of those who gave him life, imprinting his mind with the urge to obey their commands.

In the nothingness he reaches for a pick and shovel. He doesn’t understand why, just knows he must begin.

His pick hits the wall again and again. A crack splits, prised apart by tendrils of monochromatic light curling about the edges. The hole widens. The full solar spectrum of polychromatic light radiates in. He makes many holes calling each beam of light, a star, giving each star an identifier according to thoughts that bubble into his mind.

Driven, he experiments making holes in patterns, labelling them constellation, nebulae, universe and cosmos.

The shovel-loads of rubble, obsidian mixed with bloodstone, he tosses aside from digging, become comets, planets and moons. Some of the discarded larger fragments collide, bursting on impact in flames, becoming suns.

Content, he sleeps, once more.

RAM and CPU
returned to storage . . .
deactivated
among cobwebs and dust
in the corners of a dream

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end

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