Just saying that biodiversity isn’t all about beauty and things being cute and cuddly. These cards at the Phylogame website rock! And in case, you’re new to the Phylomon idea, it’s basically a crowdsourced art, science and gaming project that revolves around the reality of children knowing WAY more about Pokemon than they do about the flora and fauna around them. This, of course, is problematic since one might suggest that it’s not a bad thing for children to also know a little more about the real environment around them (a more detailed description of the project can be found…

The mermaid’s eyes bulge from the sides of her head, one aimed at you, one at the lead-colored sea. You cross your eyes; “No fair,” she says, and wheezes a little laugh; her breasts lift, ribs out, ribs gone again, skin shining and white like a porcelain platter wet in the sink. You want to reach out and see if it squeaks to the touch. “Okay, let’s see,” she says, and absently pinches at her bluish teat, thinking. “It’s hard to explain,” she says, “Ironic. …Isn’t it?” Her voice is hollow, like she’s swallowed a boy your age, and he’s…

“Tell me something interesting,” he says to me as we sit side by side on the bus. He looks so cold and calculated and I wonder if he feels anything towards me at all. He takes up room in his seat. I barely fit next to him. He is an overachiever, overeducated and impeccably self-reliant, with what most would call a bright future ahead of him. He is the science student. Is this what I want? Is this who I am? I feel torn within myself. He looks me over, bored, unsatisfied, and I feel an old familiar pain come…

The question posed a voluptuous riddle. Were these frenzied silhouettes pole-dancing in black and blue drooling the white slip the sinewy gestures of Jackson Pollock’s dribble? The answer coveted in a cracked glass where crystalline veins erupt like snowflakes fatally flirting with windowpanes. The anonymous physicist found relying on African fractals and reflexive theories of self-similarity (like the infinite peculiarity of the figure 8 ) that these calculated drips were indeed, not authentic.

these three remainders you, me and her are the legacy of simple math and boolean logic, not so much we have lost our ability to add and multiply desire sliding slowly off the tail end of X crossed paths in a cradle of American comforts so many plus signs weighed us down there is no magic in subtraction a solitary horizontal bar where nothing stays, at least for very long this foil between us I lunged from the left you two repelled, siblings parrying behind Prospero division is our only function anemic lines squeezed between fecund dots expecting no friction…