Of Smoke and Mirrors

 

Smoke, born of the flame,
a sign of smoldering embers
composed of fragmentary dreams.
Or a wind-flown mist
of translucid rainbows
scooped up from languid shores
hiding reason and life’s frailties,
adding a hint of wildness to any dish.

……..

See Entire Poem HERE

First Published by: The Squawk Back!
Publication Date: Feb. 11, 2020

 

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Walk with me through continuum

 

Each part of us
is distinct due to
the length between
our beginning
and the end of time.

……..

See entire Poem HERE

First Published by: The Squawk Back!
Publication Date: Feb. 11, 2020

Posted in connections, Life, Sci-Fi, Speculative, Time Travel | Leave a comment

Alt-Bio

I don’t know what it was I loved about you,
we weren’t even comprised
of the same sub-atomic material.
But it is a proven fact
that love doesn’t always follow the rules.

Our physicalities would never meet,
our existence based on different minerals and wavelengths,
contrary bio-chemistries through and throughout.

And we should never have found each other.
But a thought, rooted, fruited
and shot out into space to find a happy medium
will sometimes blossom into a whole ‘nother animal.

My family was on its way to K2-72 e,
sleep a requirement for travel
to keep the years unchanged.

The cloud that enveloped our vessel,
some type of comet debris I determined at first inspection,
triggered the robo-tenders to awaken me,
my shift and its required parameters already assigned.

Soon after, the ship’s sensors scanned and identified
the seed of an unknown variety
which had settled into one of the myriad corners
embedded between fuselage
that just happened to be adjacent to my cryo-pod.

When I reached out to touch the membrane separating it and I,
my life, as my species understood it, changed.
Realms were leapt across, particles re-aligned,
becoming charged and self-organized, altered to blend.

And the beginning of this cosmic Romeo and Juliet tale was spun,
inward towards microcosmic stars bursting with condensed gases,
a romance steeped in space-myth, born.

From first contact our nervous systems
created a disparate daughter-verse
containing an entire life of meeting and touching,
building a home on first soil met,
children of a different sort
bred and released into actuality,
all persisting through a dream shared by two entities
that never should have coincided in principal at all,
who loved against predictable odds and proved
that flawed physics could never survive cherished destinies.

First Published by: Farther Stars Than These
Publication Date – February 6, 2020

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Standing still at 67 mph

I spend a fair amount of time
riding the concrete ribbons hereabouts,
with monotonous moments broken up
by seasonal flora,
squashed and prayed at critters,
wrecks, and the ever present rape
of the landscape by construction crews.

But today, something odd.
Yes, there, I said it,
Odd.

In most cases when you are
flying down the road at ungodly speeds,
the real estate rushes TOWARDS you.

In other words,
you are traveling THROUGH it.
A matter of perspective I know,
but one which we humans cherish,
if only for the semblance of normality.

But today, the landscape
traveled along WITH me.
I thought perhaps I was sleep-driving.

The ground, grasses, the ever-present
advertising billboards
and rottage on the side of the road
were all traveling
in the same direction as I was.

Was it only a matter of perspective?
Or had I slipped beneath, around, behind
the view held by the general populace?

I decided to look closely
at this screen door held open for my perusal
instead of flinching aside in denial.
I would be brave and SEE that which
I would normally turn from in fear.
That fear of the unknown
we as a species have grown old with.

So I attended
and I saw

– The terrain, hard and focused.
– Every blade of grass, its warpage and weft.
– The rise and fall of each stone.
– The contour of a setting that was unorthodoxly stationary.

The feeling was of being escorted,
a path smoothed, the ride but a sit for a while.
So I went with the flow
and let myself twist with the distortion.

A lapse then occurred, one of miles
across arenas often viewed,
through vistas wearily traversed,
a lapse of a seeming wink.

With the truck on auto-pilot
I tripped the light of the moth’s eye,
arriving home in one whole,
albeit stuttered piece.

I think this little trip bears repeating.

First Published by: Aphelion
Publication Date – October 2019
Issue # – 243, volume 23
Link to my Poem

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Giving birth to a rough precision

Sometimes no matter how fast
I want my thoughts to fly
it just doesn’t seem the distance
between the moment of concept
and the transmission
between hemispheres
will ever be achieved.

I feel like I’m thinking through
assorted gravities,
my synapses ground to matter,
every signal stalling
in conundrums left out to dry.

I don’t want to wear down
those same easy patterns,
clusters directing energy via rote.
And what does logic have to do
with anything of worth?

Let me simply cogitate, release,
and allow my sparks
to ignite your atmosphere
in a brilliance blindingly abstract
and unprecise. Then, then we can share
the beginnings of a guess and clue.

First Published by: Jeannette Cheezum’s cavalcadeofstars
Publication Date – August 6, 2019
Link to my Poem

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A moment caught in greyscale

You ask her a question
and she turns towards you,
eyes ringed in kohl
smudged by the smoke
hanging in the
low-ceilinged bar

She doesn’t wonder
or question what you want,
her actions on auto-pilot,
numbness an acquired emotion
when life and just existing
require more than she can allow

The man across the table,
he looks at her, but not,
his glance far away
yet centered on her lips,
waiting for a word,
any syllable that would
resemble an interaction

And that old man,
the one buying rounds
for all those lost starts,
he stares right at you,
asking with a grin in his gaze
if you too have any moments
that have wandered off
when apathy ruled your heart

 

First Published by: The Loch Raven Review
Issue # – Volume 15, No. 1, 2019
Link to my poem

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A Wink by a Nod

A morning cut short
by decisions
made in the wink of a night,
those moments when you
stopped, turned, reckoned
and celebrated a simple progress
by and about
every yen you ever aimed for
when you lay awake
with eyes wide
and out of order.

In the light of a blink
you attempt to stop
that headlong and dawdling crash
into a stunted future
where you are no longer able
to sustain growth.

But daylight makes a habit
of white-washing those
directions, and next you know
you’ve turned desire
into disdain and
all hell breaks loose.

 

First Published by: Mad Swirl
Publication Date – 04/09/19
Link to my poem

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