Melting Point
map your edges, but make it poetic
Just my fate
the whisper slithers, and I
reflexively review my devices
anticipating discordant static
like she might be listening.
Every Wednesday, I wonder
how light would spill if I didn’t
drag the muscle of my choices
surrender to interstellar shifts
blame the sun, and label
every injury as inevitable.
✦ ⋆ ☽
You feel too much
a comment I wear on my arm
like runners securing phones
my tears touch oceans, only fools
try to direct their circulation.
Salt flows out of the wound
reactions claim influential sparks
the forest drawing firelines
sweeter than extra caramel syrup
cooled foam reforming soil
when sealed with time and space.
☾ ⋆ ✦
The wrong shade of yellow
aged walls line capillaries
and I push my eyes to whiten
swing my body, store my feet
above the glinting ground.
Memories switch channels
with identical laugh tracks
etching lessons
in rotations, superfluous fragility
of the tiniest molecules
that started an avalanche, razing
foundations glued by powder.
✦ ⋆ ☽
Endings are detached, floating
instinctual for voyagers
remember, ice breaks too
for the swell, without question
to transform their futures
rising again, like it was habitual.
If I didn't admire your work so much, I'd be so jealous! It's like watching Michael Jordan in his prime. You can't be mad, you can only watch in awe of true greatness.
“Memories switch channels with identical laugh tracks”. The fractal nature of edges. The more we zoom in, the more detail that is revealed, while all the details look strangely similar. Or micro photography of insects. The closer we get, the further from reality we seem to be. Or a melting point... H2O, unchanged but unutterably transformed.