Bezos, you experienced Zero gravity I admire, your alacrity You went beyond the Karman line On New Shepard flight Wonderful is technological leap You're by no means a creep Your thinking is quite deep You have given jobs to millions Efficient delivery of goods at doorsteps Online shopping quite Fascinating and reasonable Making great variety of things Hitherto inaccessible But there's a murky side Terrible is petty shopkeepers' plight They find it difficult to survive You thanked your employees They funded your ride You're a smart guy They create your wealth Ignoring their families and health You please them telling analogous Earth belongs to everyone Some own thousands of hectare Some not even an inch square Nevertheless, you're a great guy Idiosyncratic I am Your giant leaps in this world Make me wonder When you die, where would you die? Whether in the sky in zero gravity And keep flying Or on mother or a sister planet and buried under gravity Whatever, you would be remembered for ages for good Great guy!
It's the pilot light in the stove, the fireplace. It’s the night light in the bathroom, the living room. The reflection in the mirror, in the glass of my windshield. The hum of electricity, the sigh of the furnace.
What do you mean I’m supposed to go looking for something that is constant?
The conjoined twin does not go looking for its sibling. The brain does not search for the heart. The shadow always finds the body. Gravity invariably pulls the moon into orbit.
The smoldering ache of loss —hot like bubbling magma, bright like a solar flare— is always there. Lurking beneath the skin. The face behind the mask. Gnarled roots beneath the forest.
What do you mean I’m supposed to look for something that is a part of me? Assimilated to my sense of normalcy. Integrated into my DNA. I can only do so much introspection before I go insane.
write your grief prompt #10: What would it take to seek out the smoldering ache of loss?
your skin creates peace inside me creating wrinkles in time i find myself constantly longing to feel you close for us to create friction between gravity our inertia to propel us into voids of pleasure nothing between us is what i desire but when you deny me black holes devour me crushing my guts into pulp bleeding me with your rejection i blend till i am nothing from what i began
Wooden spoon, traveling along A marvelous companion and friend With knicks and chips and weathered bits From all the places we've been Wooden spoon, hand carved with love Yet longing to be with the forest once more Thus it fell, from my net To the waiting forest floor
I lost quite a few things while living in a tree 100' above the ground. Just because things fall down doesn't mean they'll always be found. I was at a meeting, on someone's couch, when my hat fell off of my knee and my heart jumped. ~2012/2013
Your gravity hit me hard and fast But mine didn't even touch you It just repelled out of your axis And you still keep pulling my strings I keep falling over my feet The physic's law won't work for me The biology and chemistry both are working against me affecting just me.
Birds of a feather flock together in the sultry atmosphere, whirring in and out of crepuscular clouds as if it were nothing special. feathers more like needles blacked under the godless face of the wind. The cliff's voice clings to their sun-smeared backs, reminds them of his own position on an empty, red planet and they sing back that gravity lament. The sky goes on about the lovely morning air and sunlight marches when all birds want is a place to lie down from that brittle flight, to rest their hollow bones filled with a lost longing.
I wonder what it would be like for birds under a red sun.