Coarse underside, raised veinsof a mulberry leaf, schuss schuss schussof shoes treading grass, static snap
of carpet, cat, metal, skin: voltagetravels vessels, synaptic sparksarc, powerlines buzz like hives,
engines hum through our sleepin electromagnetic ocean,the planet’s fever rising.
***
Flickering firelight, chants,red ochre handprints floatingon subterranean stone, reaching
for—or from—the inside.
***
Bricks and mortarof existence: electron cloudswhirling 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 intosockets to feel the bristling
force reach from somewhereinside, beyond the wallsto shake my hungry hand.
***
Is our fear of emptinessa 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: failuressingular or common,ghosts and sleepwalkers,
or circuits open—current flowing, ground.
Photo by Nikhita Singhal on Unsplash