Rolex
If it’s a creation,
then science and spirit should explain each other.
Not argue. Not compete.
They should echo.
Like a wave entering water—
and the water nods.
I was born into a field,
not a house.
The floor, the couch, the corners—
they didn’t creak.
They hummed.
The rooms didn’t scare me.
The electrons did.
The lies—
It came through pattern.
Through footsteps stored in drywall.
Through the breath someone forgot to exhale
Twenty years ago
My body is made of quartz that learned how to flinch.
It keeps time like a Casio—
$10 of stillness more honest than a Rolex.
Because truth doesn’t tick, nor dress up.
It vibrates.
Who said nostalgia is memory?
I know better.
Nostalgia is presence with a shadow
Eden remembered, but not currently lived in.
A waveform that still fits me
like the glow-in-the-dark stars
I stuck to my ceiling
before I knew how the sticker glowed.
Love enters and leaves no residue.
It echoes clean.
It’s a return.
A collapse in the name of peace.
A God crystal humming 32,768 times per second,
while we scroll past ourselves
looking for the next thing to react to
Categories:
waveform, creation, eve, science,
Form: Blank verse
Streetlight dander. Jawbone asphalt.
Blink razors carve her iris script.
Rib stars ovulate in feral grates,
mechanical tongue juts a bloodline breath.
Keystroke ruin writes in collapse,
a waveform lodged in sternum glass.
Lipsticked rodeo—a gash in faded denim
Banana-knuckled hands torch filterless ghosts.
Tree-call through copper root systems.
Wire-pluck storm,
vapor chews the stock market
Cancer caught in molar hush,
brined in citrine static.
She opens her throat like a coin purse.
Spine bows in semaphore.
We dismount the edge—
An incisor cusp,
the confession still blistering
beneath the flesh of no language.
Categories:
waveform, absence, conflict, corruption, desire,
Form: Romanticism
Sparkling shimmering brightened by sun
waves encroaching, receding as one
revealing a flash of color not meant
to be there by waveform or ocean’s intent
tumbling among obsidian’s ocher dust
for tens if not hundreds of years to adjust
without warning or purpose of telling their story
lie shimmering in wave-worn flashes of glory
polished in water smoothed by sand
frosted translucent rubbed by the hand
of time and weather with gentle affection
producing a glass gem by natural selection
buried in darkness beneath crashing thunder
the sea hides secrets below waves and under
heavy wet sand where the silence not shared
with surface of water upon sand bars bared
to mark the orbits of passing starlight
over distances unimaginable might
subtle to sculpt the rising tide
along night beaches as slipping waves ride
locked in place and stored deep
some treasures the ocean chooses to keep
one day perhaps release another gem
waxing moon, the seas and tides decide when
Categories:
waveform, beach, fate, imagery, nature,
Form: Rhyme
I can hear the symphony playing,
Of the thud and drum of things,
Echoing, touching and playing with my inner chord,
The loud silent winds start to make noise,
The thousands, no millions of heavenly drops,
Making a gigantic concert,
The thud of someone's door opening,
Oh!the symphony is becoming louder,
Ahh!now it's fading,
One angel playing this harmony,
Other angel receiving this harmony,
What a cheerful bliss!
What a lovely bliss!
To add on to this concert a boom of thunder,
The waveform, frequency and loudness keeps on changing,
Someone shouted it's pouring,
Other replied "pickup the clothes",
Slowly and steadily the rain stops-
Yet the thunder remains,
Making a perfect ending for this song.
Categories:
waveform, 11th grade, imagery, imagination,
Form: Free verse
I can hear the symphony playing,
Of the thud and drum of things,
Echoing, touching and playing with my inner chord,
The loud silent winds start to make noise,
The thousands, no millions of heavenly drops,
Making a gigantic concert,
The thud of someone's door opening,
Oh!the symphony is becoming louder,
Ahh!now it's fading,
One angel playing this harmony,
Other angel receiving this harmony,
What a cheerful bliss!
What a lovely bliss!
To add on to this concert a boom of thunder,
The waveform, frequency and loudness keeps on changing,
Someone shouted it's pouring,
Other replied "pickup the clothes",
Slowly and steadily the rain stops-
Yet the thunder remains,
Making a perfect ending for this song.
Categories:
waveform, 11th grade, imagery, imagination,
Form: Free verse
Spiderweb phantoms of the energy lattice,
tension spires where emotion opaquers
draw from the void.
She'd get up early
and rent a hotel room
where the staff would remove
any paintings or pictures from the walls.
She brought the Bible and a deck of cards,
plus a thesaurus and a bottle of sherry -
ha! you know this sounds good -
she'd play solitaire if she needed to get in the mood,
she'd write on yellow sheets of paper with lines on them.
That's the way Maya Angelou did it.
If there's an intersection between physics, philosophy and religion,
then I'm going to be very pleased, incorporated,
maybe even superluminal.
The layered ziggurat that you climb,
the humming iridescence coming from within,
the high priestess is at work.
Counterfactual definitions,
waveform collapses,
conservation of information.
Can random data be generated?
Derived forms,
ancient watercourses,
rapturous from trying too hard.
So, let's kill the essence,
leave ourselves hollow silhouettes,
fast-moving blanks,
or the ultimate satisfaction
that goes so slow we won't live long enough to touch it.
December 13, 2016
For Lewis Raynes' contest - 'In your head'
Categories:
waveform, mythology, nonsense, words,
Form: Free verse