Coarse underside, raised veins
of a mulberry leaf, schuss schuss schuss
of shoes treading grass, static snap
of carpet, cat, metal, skin: voltage
travels vessels, synaptic sparks
arc, powerlines buzz like hives,
engines hum through our sleep
in electromagnetic ocean,
the planet’s fever rising.
***
Flickering firelight, chants,
red ochre handprints floating
on subterranean stone, reaching
for—or from—the inside.
***
Bricks and mortar
of existence: electron clouds
whirling around a spectral core
too fast to perceive,
99.99% vacant space,
solid to the touch.
***
As a kid, I’d stick fork tines,
nail files, bent paper clips into
sockets to feel the bristling
force reach from somewhere
inside, beyond the walls
to shake my hungry hand.
***
Is our fear of emptiness
a fear of being or non-being?
We wake in a house of galaxies
and black holes, shut our eyes,
see another immensity.
At the thinning edges
between worlds: failures
singular or common,
ghosts and sleepwalkers,
or circuits open—
current flowing, ground.
Photo by Nikhita Singhal on Unsplash
