"ellipticals" poems
He never asked me for anything.
His humbleness and fruitfulness grew on me
Without knowing that his hand could carve words into ellipticals and parabolas.
His cooking skills were awful,
but he can make a Ramen soup
That'll make your knees melt like overcooked chicken broth.
He was 24 when he first came to this country,
his English broken like the glass protecting his eyes,
He left African battlefields and deserts
To generate cereal boxes and lithium batteries.
His pockets stuffed w/ month-long receipts,
because he always wanted to keep track of where he spent his hard-earned money.
Nobody gave him a cup to **** in, much less a ***
But he always felt optimism grow in his foreign lungs,
swinging his voice like a hammer to build maturity,
to stand like golden shrines.
He’d pray every night to speak to his lord,
to ask God to help shape him into something a bit more,
like his shoulders were too weak to bear the struggles of his cries.
He works harder than ghosts to keep his heart in this world.
The Beach Boys were his favorite band when he first came here,
and he always babbled about Brian Wilson because he wrote poems.
He searches for lost poems that he's buried inside the mother of his children
He visualizes the pages of these poems,
writing themselves on the faces of his children.
He tries not to see too long, too hard,
because then he may see too much of himself inside his oldest son.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
dust leaps from a cracked sill
a suicide leap
it falls
from a ferris wheel
spinning ethereally in a ray of antique light
he complains of filth again
but I don’t notice
I only see ellipticals
riveting in wood grain
as stairs crack in explosive silence
he tells me go up there
says he knew I would anyway
so I run
when russet reverberations
become stained with blood
I find her upstairs
face flushed
swollen
with eyes dripping of humiliation
she tells me he meant everything
tells me about the dust
that it wasn’t a suicide leap
but a leap of faith
she said they danced
eyes blinded by the sun
fingertips pressed to the window
outlining shapes in glass fog
to imagine a life outside
Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 12:44 AM UTC
The gaze of a galaxy,
Looks upon your breast tonight,
As your chest rises and falls, so do the planets,
Madly spinning in dizzying ellipticals for you.
Your hot breath against my cheek,
Reminds me what it is like to be human,
Sending whiskey-like heartburn across my body.
I am inebriated by your gaze, galaxy.
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 12:48 AM UTC
I’m blue, unfeeling, bathing in haze
A lonely vision on the edge of the surf
And in the edge of my gaze
I’m not sure what they are
Wispy ellipticals foam over the
Dancing crystal surface
Are they eyes?
It seems like they’re staring
At the salt as it glistens on my face
Weaving my fate with jerky glances
As uncertain as my entranced heart
I can’t see the color or
The washed out one they
Used to be
I don’t know if I love or
Hate their mesmerizing glance or
If I hope to break their faded edges,
Lines
The waves whisper and
Wishes of moments where I knew their beautiful hue
Crash back into my mind
Shhh. . .
The waves put a finger to my lips
I know what color I wish they were. . .
Autumn
It was autumn and the ocean waved goodbye. . .
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 2:33 PM UTC
⁛
i
am a
sentimental
physicist.
observing
the gravity
of emotion.
noting the
subtle lensing
of light,
as it
filters
passed you
and
distorts my
star weary
eyes.
i must
crunch the
equations &
check them
twice
before
i don
aluminum,
endure
your
endless
cold,
& shoot
for your
moon.•
○.
⁂⁖
.
the
mass
effect
of you
consumes.
hypothesis:
your
spirit’s
path is
visible
light,
racing
towards
a cosmic
wall; to
decorate
galactic sky
as microwave
impressionism.
•°.
.
to
make
sense of
your dark,
i spend
my nights
measuring
boundless
black
matter that
surrounds us.
enraptured
by the
scented skyline
prophesying:
jet propulsion,
serenaded, and
lemonade rainfall;
Armageddon
upon another
acid planet.
your pain
upon the
reaches
still unpinned
by travelled
telescopes;
dying
technologies
making me
jealous of
all the
places where
the universe
sees the
parts
of you
i am
physically
incapable
of being. °
•.
⁖⁕
.
as love
moves
in ellipticals
it eclipses
my heart,
eventually.
always,
the awe
never ceases
to inspire me.
invokes my
muse.
devote my
life to
translating
the beauty of
its euphoria
into the
English
vernacular.
ceaselessly.
to release
the burden of
it’s memory
like the sun
burned into
my retinas.
i compose &
compute each
intangible
equation.
nuance
comprises
itself onto
endless notations.
converting numbers,
filtered through
my limbic system,
into colloquial
prose.
closest words
to illustration,
as my
cerebellum
can
surmise. •
. •°.
•.
code the
sentences
unto
my poems;
my theories
of everything.
presenting
my poetry
to everyone
as my
thesis.
phantoms
obsessing
my mind
my only
tangible
evidence.
am i
still the
only
person
who can
see
how
perfect
we
are?
the
only
person
who
sees
our
future
written
in the
stars?
-six pm
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 3:44 PM UTC
I thought I'd drop by the gym
and ride the bike awhile
maybe lift some weight
and at the ladies, smile
You can imagine my amazement
it's like the circus came to town
animals all over the equipment
working out, and losing pounds
Elephants on stair steppers
zebras, riding ellipticals, and bikes
rhinos and ducks, on the treadmills
running from porcupines, with spikes
The bears lifting free weights
and gators on all of the machines
snapping at those that pause to watch
as they do ten more reps, of eighteen
All the cats are in the classrooms
lions and tigers, leotards to adjust
aerobically lithe and unchallenged
as with all cats, flexibility, is a must
I quickly left without a sound
marking date and time for sure
this place wont be clean for days
sweeping up, hair, scales, and fur
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 8:03 AM UTC
Encorporated owning entities align,
to face this pesky point perceived as cause
to effects usually affectionately sought as joy…
little boy and girl joy, sleeping under shaggy
old man frowning face, sagging, not frowning…
second thinking ellipticals and tri-punctual ellipses…
Threes of reality, see,
you and me and this medium, logos shapeless in form.
**** as dust,
proof as stars expand
and we assume some part of us, must
survive,
someday.
So finished,
so finally past all reasons why not,
now cause feeling, the expression, words
spoken from this wheeling center to the rim,
pointing away,
reminding me of a galaxy recently observed,
relayed to me by way of useful magic
from a mathematically fixed position
on the elliptical orbit edge a million miles away.
A thousand paces, left to left, left right left,
a thousand thousand thousand pace miles away,
looking into the outer darkness
between our childhood starry heaven
Sun and moon and stars. And us as dust.
Mere thought in formation, you and us.
Threes of reality, see,
you and me and this medium, logos shapeless in form.
**** as dust, swirling sun-size motes, truth
evidential signal proof old stars expand
and we assume some part of us, must
survive the inevitable mortal fact
someday.
Nevermind, give the end this point
to stand on,
and watch it pop.
Proof, uno mas, the point
of any thing pierces every thing.
We live in our inherited wind, with a will
to wind the clocks that twist the threads and change
the angles of reflection,
to arrange blue skies here, today.
Apr 14, 2023
Apr 14, 2023 at 2:27 PM UTC
In the galaxy, stars brightly gleam,
A massive collection, a cosmic dream.
Gas, dust, and dark matter,
In spirals, they scatter,
Held by gravity's powerful theme.
Ellipticals glide, irregulars play,
In the vastness of night, they dance and sway.
The idol we praise,
Through the celestial maze,
Guiding our hearts, light-years away.
Apr 16, 2025
Apr 16, 2025 at 11:40 AM UTC