Quiet Savage

I roll over in the night —

Under lonely, comfortless blankets —

my heart flopping gently against my lung,

wet and heavy.

It must be a sin

to feel this vital organ as if I were

tossing it, warm and rhythmic,

from hand to hand —





Meta Physics

Stumbling clumsily from there to here
tripping over conscience and convention
running into expectation and muse,
wilting to earth, I am battered and bruised.

Time is not like the tide,
rising and falling:
time only falls and falls away
‘til the sound of waves disappears
and I’m left standing
on the coarse sand of change.

Change must be all-powerful
to make me feel
helpless and hopeful at once
so much so fast leaving me winded.

The gods of Olympus are still
on the mountain
biding their time,
breathing words,
realizing the truth
that from time to time,
tomorrow never comes.

When the day grows still
electrons rise up
and swirl around
tracing ink stains
on these old brittle leaves.

In my next life,
I will be an electron.

[from the historical tweet file]