I came to a fork in the road.
I stared at it for a long time.
It stared back, daunting.
Unmoving.
I picked it up and snapped it over my knee.

I decided to not decide.
I used the fork to eat my lunch.
Sitting there -
at a fork in the road.
I ate. And slept.
Refusal.

I refuse to cooperate.

My Cosmonaut
Scouring the stars for me
His life is all night and glitter
As I watch from my little marble
He floats
He flies
My Cosmonaut will rise
To the challenge
And bring a little space back
For me

I've never seen so many people.
So many people to let down, so many people to make proud.

Warm days
Make me think of your little feet, little one
Your little toes
Wiggle, giggle
Warm days
Make me think of your laugh, little one
The little bubbles in your throat
funny, tummy
Warm days
Make me think of your name little one
Your little love letter
*Keasbey, Keasbey

It's really quiet.
The baby sleeps better than I ever will, if I ever will.
No one replies to my text messages.
Maybe their phone is dead, or at home -
But it still means they hadn't thought of me.

It's really dark.
I closed all the blinds and curtains, scared of what will melt out of or into the nighttime.
The baby sleeps with his door open, hardly afraid. I thought he would've wanted to sleep next to me for safety, and yet I wish I was sleeping near him for safety.

Sometimes a little body next to you is all you need.
Or a text message.
Or a little bit of sunlight.
Anybody.


Anybody?

Who decided to rhyme grip with slip?
The harder I grip
The more things slip through my hands
I'm gripping
Things slipping
Which is which?
Sometimes, I can't even tell
I'm gripping school
And yet my grades are slipping
I'm gripping money
And yet it slips like pennies through my fingers
I'm gripping God
And yet He I feel the cloth of his robe slipping away
I'm gripping Life
And yet I often feel like Dying
Not unhappy
I'm not crying
Just confused, annoyed
Because everything I'm gripping
Knuckles white
Running till I'm tripping
Is slipping away

"Magic is closer to science than religion;
science aims to conform nature to man, religion
aims to conform man to nature."*

Though I am no longer as mystified, this makes
Me no less a mystic. For I too pray,
Not through tears or knees
But numbers and telescopes.

You of much feeling need all your evidence --
Archaeology and historical account --
When I of such mind and curiosity
Need nothing more than the slightest feeling;

That feeling I crave beyond all else.