From the author: A poem about Merlin the magician, from the King Arthur tales.
Every day I eat a clock,
excrete a clock.
Time jewels around me.
Blue diode digits flash in my eyes.
In my cave, I liquefy the crystals--
make them seethe and blaze.
I text spells that writhe on the pulsing quartz walls,
answer invisible psi phones from the future.
Piles of hoarded sundials, solar cells,
pendulums, balance wheels, church bells,
wristwatch gears, faces and hands,
broken hourglasses and their sands,
from too many distant lands,
Sapphire chips, alarm chimers,
and yellowed daytimers.
atomic oscillators, and
Mainsprings, bezels, windup keys,
as far as the eye can see.
Chronographs, escapements, and star charts,
rock, water, electric, and cuckoo parts--
everything with a tick or tock
heaped around me.
I am a time bomb, set to detonate
into an unknown future.
A Druid terrorist,
waiting for his moment.
She planted me ticking here—
my co-conspirator, mad lady bomber.
Snared with my own spells, beguiled and caught by her
like photons, we are quantum-entangled forever.
This story originally appeared in Strange Horizons.