The fork and knife,
Rest comfortably,
Side by side
On the table.
Holding the plate,
Up to my face,
I lapped away,
The last remnants,
Of breakfast.
Bits of pancake,
And scrambled eggs,
Encased in sweet amber,
Like a less depressing,
La Brea Tar Pit.
Color me an opportunist,
It would be in poor taste,
To let good food,
Fossilize.
Picking up the pieces,
Of past events,
And reassembling them,
To make sense,
Of the occurrences.
Predictions,
On the trajectory,
Of a rocket,
Aimed at open sky,
Which is harder to hit,
Than you’d expect.
The finely-sharpened,
Somewhat dark art,
Of getting from the business-end,
To the destination,
And vice versa-
And how best to deliver it.
Chaos does not necessarily travel in straight lines,
But there is some order,
In the ways,
Of disarray.
An odd, viscous concoction,
Consisting mostly of water,
Amino acids,
Sugars,
Vitamins,
And other nutrients,
Served up,
Neat,
In a queen cup.
One protein,
Royalactin,
Gives aspiring queen’s,
Political careers,
Traction.
They feast,
Learn etiquette,
Mature,
And leave,
To settle-down,
Fill power vacuums,
And form factions.
Up from the abyss,
Leaning in,
For this,
Pressing against,
The precipice.
“Not quite,”
Walking the line,
Not going quietly,
But we never intersect,
Not that there wasn’t any interest,
Or an interception,
But unrequited I stay.
The end,
Becomes smaller,
Ever smaller,
Yet does not fade away.
The spider in the corner,
Of my dorm,
Foreigner,
Hoarder,
With web in disorder.
If I were shorter,
I’d steer clear,
And try not to vear,
Into his hunting gear.
He’s well-equipped,
Works from home,
And quite strict,
When prey roams,
Toward his crypt.
The monster,
Stands,
A stone’s throw away,
Saunters,
On silken-strands,
He’d be easy to slay,
With a magazine,
But that’s mean,
And I’d have to clean,
After.
He keeps,
His heaps,
Tidy,
And tiny,
So I’ll let him stay,
Maybe.
Bacteria
stuck to the side
of a hydrothermal vent
metabolizing,
with black smoke,
rising,
or encased,
in ancient salt crystals,
photosynthesizing.
Processing cyanide
or sulfur
to grow,
then split.
Residing,
where it’s corrosive,
with high temperatures,
and/or
intense pressure,
dissolved metals,
minerals,
or chemicals.
Found,
in massive, arid, vacuous deserts,
the bottom of the arctic,
or gaps inside boulders,
or the vacuum of space.
Extremes are not insurmountable
just because they are not conducive
to life.
It’s full of proverbial surprises
after all.
———————————-
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Folds,
Within folds,
Hold,
A cursive serpent.
Servant,
To recursive function,
Fitting together,
Like puzzle-pieces,
Forming,
A doctoral thesis.
Fire-breather,
Meat-eater,
Jurassic classic,
Emerging,
From the ether,
And merging,
With itself,
Over and over.
Formulaic conveyance,
Each step of the way,
With programmed patterns,
Robotic arms,
Outfitted with pincers,
And cutting implements.
Each drone,
Making clones,
With their own tasks honed,
Couldn’t do it alone.
Though it lacks the imagination,
And dizzying whimsey,
Of his creations,
Rube Goldberg would be proud,
That his machinations,
Weren’t so far-fetched,
After all.
Haven’t you heard?
Hearing, the sensation
requires some good vibration,
to get the eardrums
moving.
Microwave radiation,
in the tiniest doses,
bypasses bones
no barriers broken.
Your brain buzzes
like the Chatty Cathy,
it actually is –
even if you’re at a loss for words.
The electrons in
your audio cortex
are eager to broadcast
for me,
but only get so far.
It’s easy to gossip,
when the whispers
are beamed directly into
your thoughts.
Can we say, then,
that we are of the same mind?
Structures,
Carefully crafted,
To cause ruptures.
Bite down,
Break through,
Crumbling, crunching, crumpling,
Splitting in two.
Anchors for muscles,
Housings for engines,
Ivory tunnels,
Which flank,
The body’s front door.
Leave room for more!
Gnawing,
Sawing,
Clawing.
You are what you eat.
Seriously,
That matter becomes you.
That saying is true,
You eat,
So you can continue,
To chew.
The File Pile 