Big BangWe come together as matter and light,
Churning and splitting and
Attempting to expand within an ever-smaller space,
Potential and life bursting at the seams,
Tearing through fabric and heat if only to
Then with a pop-snap-BANG-
We emerge into an unfamiliar space,
Stretch our limbs and reach out and up towards
Who knows what edges of a plane that
We continue to grow, minds and bodies
Learning complexities of movement and rhythm,
Running, tumbling, spinning, out and out and OUT
Faster, FASTER, there’s no time to lose,
But time is our creation, so we might take
A moment or two to breathe,
But not so long that time passing turns to our
It’s not quite that time, yet.
We dance and twirl and chatter with
Ancient tones and gaping caves of
Thought and patterns,
The highs and lows useless but only to assure us that
We still exist.
The highs and lows intrinsic as the systems that
Push and pull and bend us into
Strained shapes and colors.
I AmI am the voice that sings with the tawny tones of the
Silent plains and chortling rivers,
Their floating melodies sometimes lost on the
More aggressive, shouting winds,
Parched grasses perpetually bent under the
Shifting currents’ steady stream.
I am the stuttering trees and yawning caves
And the briny pitch that clings to the
Most intimate nooks and crags of an
Ancient, now water-logged continent.
I am the grinding desert sand and the mountains that
Thrust into my frigid, foggy breath.
I am the shattering crash of a spark
Leaping eagerly down to meet the
Familiar yet opposing ground,
Such acts of creation commonplace by now.
Furious heat folds and buckles up under my shell,
Climbs up through my layers and
Scorches the land with waves of
Thrumming energy and calm.
I stretch from one horizon to the next and beyond,
Around and back to the farthest reaches
Of this tiny, gentle mass of condensed stardust and
Eyelids flicker at the thought, and I
Sit up to cotton-filtered light.
In Your Head“It’s just in your head,”
A friendly voice assures. The
Sound travels into my ear,
Pulsing past the
Eardrum and hammer,
Anvil and stirrup,
Reverberations tickling the hair cells
Of the spiraling cochlea, further arousing the
Twisting auditory nerves, then a
Thalamus and auditory cortex,
In my head.
A quick glance up reveals her
Bright smile and creased eyes,
Visage reflecting through my pupils,
Against my fovea,
Ganglions and bipolars,
Rods and cones,
Capturing the light, their
Synapses chemically catapulting it back through
Optic nerves to the
Ever-ready thalamus and occipital lobes,
In my head.
A wary hand stretches out to
Stroke my shoulder,
But I can’t tell if she paused before resting
Against my hunched trap,
Or if the soft touch is real,
My focus too focused, it seems.
It’s hard to make sense
With the knowledge that it’s all
In my head.
My heart thumps a quickened beat,
Veins and muscles stressed against an onslaught of