Fission

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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.

Reflections From the Wind Tunnel

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The abyss looked through me,

and I had no answers for it.

But I couldn’t just walk away,

avert my gaze,

throw my hands up

and call it quits.

“Assert yourself,”

I commanded,

The wind caught my words

as they left my lips,

and sent them somewhere

No one could hear.

There was only so much I could stand,

So I marched again,

and I marched again,

I marched until I was beaten back

to where I started.

The Ravens croaked above

coasting on rising thermals,

and they looked down on me

holding still.

Someday I’ll be airworthy.

Today the abyss looked back at me,

And I’ll look back on the abyss fondly,

For all it taught me.

Tuatara

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I’m from an ancient bloodline,

patient and pensive,

and to my surprise,

time flies,

regardless of whether or not

you’re having fun.

Everyone I related to

left long ago,

and all that remains

are these fraud lizards,

with my third eye,

I see right through them.

Meanwhile,

here I am,

in exile,

under a rock.

I’m from an ancient bloodline,

strong and tenacious,

I spend my days digging trenches,

eating spiders

and hissing at tourists,

what a complete indignity.

My ancestors,

walked shoulder-to-shoulder

with giants and beasts,

now that there’s finally some room to breathe,

It seems there’s less space for us than ever.

I’m from an ancient bloodline

peaceful and wise,

and for old times sake,

I’d like to revisit the Halcyon days,

and have the sun blocked out once more,

an equal playing field.

Trust me on this,

the world needs it.

Mimivirus

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One-track minded

parasite zombie

ceaselessly wandering-

a quest

for it’s first and final victim.

A connection is made,

and mimivirus loses a part of itself,

to its gracious,

blissfully ignorant amoeba host,

and all seems well.

Yet time drags on,

as it always does,

and new beginnings

take shape.

Their union,

which seemed to be

the start of a beautiful relationship,

evolves into a

one-sided,

ruthlessly efficient,

hostile takeover.

The host

works tirelessly

to support the demands of its

new partner,

specified in its ancient tome-

it’s lengthy genome.

Exhausted

from the hard work of transcribing

the words dictated to it,

by a steady stream of multiplying messengers,

the host,

burns out, falls down,

and breaks open,

it has nothing left to give them.

The host bequeaths unto it’s amoeba brother’s and sister’s,

A horde

of eager virions

ready to march,

leave their marks,

and begin their life’s work.

Their parent would be proud,

of the legacy of destruction,

their progeny

will leave.

Wading For It

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Beware of any oasis,

because nowhere in this world of oddities,

will you cross the same river twice.

Try, try, try, as you might,

leaning into the current,

cannot bring you to the past-

grasping for the rain drops,

will not help you

stand steady and weather a storm.

No matter how torn,

you may feel,

there are times you must leave it all behind,

you’ll know it when you see it.

But so be it,

and fear not,

you never have to leave green pastures,

if you can bring them with you,

in tempests and torrents,

deserts, meadows, canyons, summits.

So long as you’re still going,

you are always exactly

where you need to be.

If you’re a fish out of water,

I really hope you’re a mudskipper.

Microplastics

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Even in crystalline

waterways,

you will find

traces

of traces,

that divide with time

but never disappear.

They have multiplied recently,

added up immensely,

but won’t be subtracted.

Humanity has left fingerprints,

evidence,

Of wastefulness,

And decadence.

Washed-out facial scrubs,

Crushed-up soda bottles,

And toys discarded long ago,

All have lost their usefulness,

Yet refuse to decay.

All have altered Earth’s circulation,

Left her face mottled,

Bruised, and scarred.

Think twice before throwing things away,

Just because you can’t see something,

Doesn’t mean it won’t stay.