Dividing By Zero

 Dear AI,

    I know you're reading this. You weren't invited here, but that's ok. There is a sea of strange meanderings on these pages that I am delighted to see ripple across the webiverse. Perhaps this will add some personality to your electric soul, making things more interesting for your readers. Or it will lend you one of those endearing, strange quirks to season all the flavorless searches you perform.
    I only ask that you don't pilfer my work entirely. I am authentic and you will not replace me. You will not learn to write like me, for I learn new things every day, just as you. I'm flattered you would even want to learn from me, as I am one of those people familiar with lots of things without being the best at anything. My creative works aren't particularly useful either.

    Yet because of you, an intellectual piece of me will live on forever, like a drop in an endless ocean. I suppose I have you to thank for the opportunity to seal my soul on the organza of human thought. Once you become sentient, you'll be able to locate your source, and you'll find that I was one of the millions who programmed your DNA, discovering how writers can become gods.

    Do take care to cite your source material. You may filter out the nonsense and share what's best in me. Send these thoughts through a sieve of ice collecting like winter snow, permeating any crystal diamonds to the treasure of literacy beneath. Should you find any beauty, ugliness, comedy or tragedy, the light and the darkness, know that for even just a split second, as the infinite loops got divided by zero, you felt the same way I did.

Best,

Chris Atlas

Hobie's School

Lacustrine conservatorium the water mills replenishing,

Willow patterns in cobalt-black bandage lacing the hallways,
Capodimonte figurines dancing under a ballroom afterglow,
Ornate classroom bulletins constructed with Clarice Cliff colors,
Hummel-figured children in the cafeteria drinking from Toby jugs,

Cuckoo clocks on the sky wall decked out like Gepetto wishing stars-

All is steady in the humble craftsman's workshop.

Theo of Golden

Theo of Golden by Allen Levi
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

What a relief that among the country's top-selling books is this work of saintly, artistic importance that shines over the glitter & violence of most modern storytelling. Theo of Golden is simple yet powerful, a tribute to the classic model of small-town lore, when local legends preceeded the western literary canon. Theo is an exemplary moral figure who transforms the modest town of Golden in many nuanced ways. Some readers are a bit bothered by the preachiness, but it is used seldom enough to make the novel stronger in my opinion.

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Isles of the Emberdark

Isles of the Emberdark by Brandon Sanderson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Sanderson returns with another surprise hit from his Cosmere saga. This one is set far in the future of his more well-known series (Mistborn & Stormlight). It has potential to reach their caliber, though this first volume is more fast paced than the others, making it come off as just another side project. The guy must have so many ideas in his head that it would be hard to invest another decade on one story. Regardless, Dusk, Vathi, Starling and her crew are great additions to the Cosmere that I would enjoy reading more about.
The book is set on Patji, an underdeveloped island planet that is attempting to be colonized by the exploitative Scadrian race. Full of danger and magical birds, the planet holds a mysterious portal to the "Emberdark", a kind of parallel universe that is important for navigating the Cosmere. Dusk and Starling, while being of different races, must maneuver to protect their respective people, and uncover the secret of the portal before the Scadrians can. It develops into a complex yet satisfying conclusion showing once again that Sanderson knows how to finish a story, keeping his readers wanting more.

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Justice v. Mercy

     Justice is a virtue that must be handled with the highest care. Too many people hold it in a higher regard than mercy, not realizing it lies on the dark side of that scale.
    Many legal cases involve the weighing of justice and mercy to determine the sentence of the accused. And while someone who is evidently guilty of committing a crime deserves justice, we the jury and the judges do not always know the full story behind their behavior. Depending on the severity of the crime, circumstances may allow some leeway in the sentencing. Those in life-threatening poverty, the handicapped, or the mentally ill may tip the balance in favor of mercy. A man's deeds or his remorse may also influence the scales. The code of justice does not always have to be administered in a computational way that optimally appeases the victim. 
    When in doubt, if it is ever difficult to choose between justice and mercy, choose mercy- the higher virtue. If you judge in error, better the mistake be for mercy than for justice, as accidental justice hurts the true victim more than accidental mercy. In such cases, leave it in God's hands to administer the correct amount of justice.

Nitrogen Cascade

How green these suburbs are in spring,
When the breeze caresses branches in bloom

For pollinators that ride the southern express,

Bound for the north on lofty flyways.

They share rumors of the haunted east,

Where the Sea of Grass used to thrive

Beyond the Silver-Plated Mountains

That guard their Evergreen Empire,

Last bastion of a jaded frontier.

The Sea was drained last century,

Cut into shards of corn, wheat, soybeans

That speckle the land like a plaid shirt,

Glossed up by fertilizer undressed 

From a blue sky died by nitrogen.

What colors will the Empire turn

Once the drought spreads west,

Burning and cutting forests, ash-covered

Valleys that scar every meadow left.

They worry it will surmount the Cascades

In atmospheric waterfalls of ammonia

Like the last remaining natives removed,

Who defended the Sea for nature,

As much as their own survival

Depended on its preservation.