"elytra" poems
my open window
looking out with anticipation
cloudy day
waiting for rain drops
precious sounds of life
trickledown into a thunderstorm
crackle of light
reaching from the clouds to the ground
cloud condensation nuclei
magic droplets start to fall
clouds pass
anticipated blue sky
sun raining rays
creatures buzzing
bird wings flapping
luck of the universe
bringing loveliness into my vision
kismet of my ideas
when reaching for the unknown
ladybug lands on me
providing the luck
elytra open like a mechanical contraption in my dreams
protecting precious veined wings
off you go with exquisite elegance
graceful motion
ballerinas
mimicking
your moves
grand jeté
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
rested, sealed in a cloud.
through the panes of my reflection,
she lay still. preserved,
at a point in time.
carefully, it was made
a heaven for her,
black, against the snow,
a delicate frame.
freedom, hers was sought
in a vain attempt,
too easily, given up,
it left a desperate mark.
made to cut her loose
unnoticed, beneath her.
her eyes looked forward,
unrelenting, yet absent.
my gift remains pristine.
faded, her elytra
are pale and sickening.
yellowed, they conceal
many writhing guests.
unmoving, she remains,
but a stranger to life.
a gift, she is,
rotting from the inside.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
I write poetry when thoughts infect me
catching colloquy in a web to feast
my thorax alates pearlescent scales
I capture nectar from dewy books
***** waxy words that form in the back
of my throat in honeycomb shapes
they taste sweetest directly from my lips
until you notice six legs protruding
or ten eyes staring up at you in fear
the apex of my elytra is rainbow chrome
but all you see is a hardened shell
admittedly, all I've ever had is ability
to filiform syllables and sounds
dangle lexicon delicately from silk pages
in hopes of creating all the beauty
that I have never felt I possess in this form
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
He reached into the paper bag his friend handed over and pulled out a small picture frame.
“Do you want it?” his friend asked.
He turned it over carefully to see what was in the frame. Through the glass, he saw a beetle mounted in cotton, displayed along with a strip of paper that held its name. It looked like something good to have hanging in his room.
“Yeah, but why?” No one just gives away nice things. At least no one gives stuff away without a reason.
“Why, what?”
“Why are you just giving stuff away?”
“Oh,” silence, “I just don’t need it.”
It was a non-answer, a truism, something people say just to get people to asking questions without lying. That’s not enough, he thought. If there was anything he knew about his friend, it was that he liked to talk.
“Wait, so why don’t you need it?”
“Just take the whole bag. Maybe just give back the 3DS games”
He turned the frame around. There was a mark in the back, like someone tried to open it up with ballpoint pen that ran out of ink. Whoever made it gave up after one try but still managed to leave pinholes in the cardboard.
“Are you sure?”
“I think you’re asking too many questions for free stuff, guy”
He looked through his friend’s bag, wondering what else was inside. It was clothes, mostly, and ruffling through it wafted up a scent. The smell and the fabric, it was decidedly feminine to him. He had more questions, more thoughts to investigate.
A car, pulled over next to them. “My ride’s here,” his friend said.
He looked at the beetle. Its wing casings were a sickly yellow. He saw a few writhing brown dots come from under it. He felt sick. Maggots, he thought.
“Carlos,” he called out, handing back the bag, “I’ll keep the beetle”
His friend turned back, took the bag and left.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC
in the summer her mother cries out her name,
as the harvest comes in.
rows of pure indiana corn,
swollen, pollen-filled and
waiting. festering.
in summer, she sits hungry and
wanting. like a sick dog she waits at her doorstep,
sweltering; silent; whining through molars
and drool.
she hears her mother call her name again and
through the spit she imagines
a billion corn-seeds
crying with her. she walks toward
the porch and sees her mama and
all her broken fingers.
she feels the pregnant stalks call after her;
they use her name and spit her mistakes back at her
like sunflower seeds.
she opens the screen door; her head aches,
she smells
of grain and pond-water and
baby powder.
she feels her arteries and
extends her elytra,
jerks her thorax toward the setting sun,
breaks all six legs on
impact.
her pollen-friends insist they're laughing with her,
they poke her limbs.
they watch her writhe.
"oh, isn't this beautiful? how gorgeous
you look with your
husk shucked off you."
she nods; silent. how flayed she is,
how vulnerable, how innocent,
like a pig led for slaughter.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 3:47 PM UTC
Males of Dynastes bear two long horns, one on the head, and the other on the pronotum, forming a "plier"; the pronotal horn has reddish setae on its underside. This pronotal horn is absent in females.[3] Some species have an iridescent colouration to their elytra.[4] Certain species of the genus Dynastes also have the ability to change colour.[5] Specific species have been noted to occur with either black or yellowish to khaki green elytra.[5] This variation in colour is due to a spongy layer below the transparent cuticle;[5] this spongy layer is a network of filamentous strands made up of three-dimensional photonic crystals lying parallel to the cuticle surface.[6] When the cuticle is filled with gas this layer can show through, presenting the yellow to khaki green colour, but when filled with fluid the cuticle appears black.[5] This is due to the change in refraction index allowing us to see the difference in colours.[6] This system is known as a hygrochromic effect.[4] Female beetles can change colour but not as completely as males, which is not yet explained as the mechanisms for the colour change is still not completely understood.[5] What is known is that changes in humidity affect the levels of moisture in the cuticle which leads to a change in colour in most cases.[5] Since the change is due to humidity it is a reversible process, however, it has been observed that after multiple colour changes or high stress the beetles will maintain some dark spots on their cuticle.[4] Some hypotheses for why this colour change occurs at all are the ability to blend with surroundings depending on the time of day (black for nighttime and yellow for daytime) to best avoid their main predator, the tropical screech owl (Megascops choliba).[5] Another theory has to do with thermoregulation in the sense that a black beetle heats up faster than yellow and then once they have warmed up theoretically there will be less moisture in the cuticle which leads to changing to a colour which does not heat as quickly so they won't overheat.[5]
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 4:46 AM UTC