science

Event Horizon

Standard

I feel it,

I feel it

as I play this game of chicken

inching up

to the point of no return.

I’m pulled closer and closer

yet the gravity of the situation

never quite dawns on me.

My vertebrae, adaptable and flexible

to a point,

find rest

tracing the shape of the pilot’s seat.

I’ve sat for too long,

and need to stretch my legs.

I’ve come all this way,

and, out of nowhere

I’ve crossed the threshold and

I’m in too deep.

Before anyone I’d ever heard of

was born,

a far-off star collapsed dead

and left a void of

crushing fury,

the wrath of a blind idiot God.

For the crime of intrusion

on His private domain,

I will be welcomed in

for eternity.

And I will be pulled even further

beyond my limits.

I’m just a wayward thread

yanked from its seam,

falling into

the great abyss

I feel it,

I feel it.

Sun Spots

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Life-giving radiance

more than intense enough

to destroy all

that leans in close.

The seared paint

and armor plates will

shield us

but not for too long.

We are stuck inside

the worst piñata ever.

Flares breach the surface,

crashing back

to bask on brilliant light.

The surface crackles,

dappled like the starry nights

it vanquishes.

And even the Sun

couldn’t keep the heat

all the way up —

certainly not forever.

We don’t have long

to admire

what we plainly see.

That’s why we get out there.

Living Fossils

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I am the way

God made me,

nothing more

and nothing less.

We all have our cracks,

yet I am not broken enough

to fix.

I may be stuck in my ways,

only because I know

they work well.

I’m not looking

to be understood.

Things have changed,

new ages

came and went,

but I’m still here,

rock-solid.

Time has told me

only one thing,

that I am well-designed.

To endure

means a lot more

in the long run

than to conquer.

Rarely do I reflect

on what has brought me here,

I know only

how to survive.

“The fish is that last to know

it lives in water.”

In the Flesh

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I wish the fire

in the pit of my stomach

would warm my heart

during cold nights,

but the heat

doesn’t quite

travel that far.

I belch up smoke,

because I am only skin and bones.

My Achilles’ tendon,

sore and raw

from javelin wounds

that won’t heal,

because I can’t stop

picking at the scabs.

I am only human.

If only I could

power wash

the spaces

between the folds in my brain.

Unravel it, rinse it off

and wring it out —

but it has to stay

in the case

because it doesn’t travel well.

I am the sum

of all my defective parts,

inextricably stitched together

with connective tissue,

take me or leave me.

Antimatter

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We could learn so much from each other.

We’d tell and retell

our favorite stories,

take a walk in the park

and have a drink in the bar.

Finally, we’ve met

each other’s equal and opposite,

but there’s one catch:

we must stay at arms-length.

I want to know

your perspective

but all this time

with no contact —

there’s too much pent up

energy.

We could tear-up space-time

or wake the neighbors

both would be pretty rude of us.

I wish we could

have just one friendly meeting

without annihilating

everything.

Don’t get too close.

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Through The Prism

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With every matter of perspective,

we must take into account

the beholder and

the contours of their mind’s eye.

The way the light refracts

is a matter of the tool used

and what we project.

Conclusions drawn from

kaleidoscopes are more colorful,

to be sure,

but how much is just distortion?

Does the pair of binoculars

miss the forest for the trees?

Beams need not

be straight like arrows,

they curve,

pitch,

yaw and bloom

on their way.

Everything that’s absorbed,

is obscured —

only what returns to our vantage point

is what we remember.

Our minds,

starved for stimulus,

scrounge for the scraps and

fill in the blind spots

where our retinas are.

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Nebula

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That twinkle in your eyes,

swear I could see it

for miles.

But if we observe

more closely

the mosaic

reveals itself.

Specs of dust,

trillions in number

collect and condense as

tumbling

cotton-candy clouds

crackling and cascading.

Billowing towers,

stand tall over

waves perpetually

cresting,

brilliant streaks

in the swirling mist –

like looking through a prism

while watching a parade.

In the vastness,

the great, expansive vacuum,

we find

arcs of lightning,

fireballs,

shining stars taking shape

and making strides,

to lighting the way.

I see the spark in you.

Toxoplasma Gondii

Standard

Stay with me, please.

You’re always on my mind.

I don’t care

when you go hide,

or wander far and wide,

scratch the curtains

or knock my glasses

off the table.

Take your time,

I know you’ll be back.

I feel you with me always,

When you’re nuzzled with me

I am stable

once again.

Stay with me please,

because you’re my friend.

I am tamed once I see you–

how little you do for me,

my favorite freeloader.

To every need, I will tend;

you can feed yourself,

bathe,

and live your life without me,

but I’ll do it all — all for you,

that’s what I choose.

Please stay,

you’re always on my mind.

Fission

Standard

Chack

Goes the cue ball,

as it breaks

the tenuous structure

at the start of the game.

We collected these balls,

and set them here

for specifically this purpose.

The purposive percussion,

can have unforeseen side effects,

such as scratches,

shouting matches

or, at worst,

the 8-ball finds a way

to lose you the whole affair.

But with precision and care,

the collisions

and chain reactions you hope for,

carry you through.

A game of pool revitalizes the night.

It brings joy and energy,

that escalates,

as each ball finds its way to a pocket,

out of sight

but not out of mind.

All from the predictable instability

at its outset.

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Hemocyanin

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You and I

have new blood,

The oxygen we need,

pulled from each breath,

is cradled

in a molecular nest,

and bound in iron:

scarlet Hemoglobin.

But our ancient ancestors,

and the still-living

relics of the copper age,

still hold to

their old ways.

It courses through their veins,

blue

like the patina

on a penny,

that’s seen

better days.

Red blood caught on,

but ours is not the only way.

Our cousins in the deep,

also well-travelled,

use azure Hemocyanin

it still works it’s magic,

just like ours

but matches their lifestyle,

working tirelessly

undaunted by cold,

darkness,

and depth.

Flesh and blood,

follow their own

rhyme and reason,

what falls out of fashion

can often still function,

in the right place,

at the right time

and in the right hands.