Today’s poem is part of a special launch schedule during National Poetry Month from April 1—30, 2024. I’ll be posting a new poem daily for 30 days, which will be sent out to all subscribers as a summary on April 9, 16, 24, and 30 and otherwise can be viewed for free in the archives here. Thank you for being here!
“MOOD: FRACTION”
Everything is more violent out here a thousand tired suns spinning with such a feverish roar it drowns out everything else but there is no sound in space just like there’s no sound in the forest just like there was sound between us a vacuum in which we threw everything all our desires and our hurts and a montage somewhere between snow falling in April just a made-up teenage dream kind of time and place / a place Carl Sagan called a pale blue dot to be sure not a light blue circle an implication of the unbearable lightness of our being caught in a stream of light like a dust shower drowning in space yet suspended in beauty like watching a single fleck of dust float in the stream of June sun a fractal both ways and every way I can think to see it / sometimes I forget to augment myself the perfect nth degree I need, I’ve lost the n I’m on, I can’t remember which day which cycle how many spins I’ve lived / soon it’s December how is it already December and I am 1/nth degrees colder than the Jupiter moon what do the numbers mean / if I take out the n I am left with violets in the dark, violets I can place in the periwinkle vase by the window, hope that in n hours when my closest star inches this side of this pale blue dot that it’ll catch the light of the violets quietly blooming like some galaxy in the palm of my hand of my living room of my tiny wonderful life puncturing the space between dust and death before the cats wake up waiting to swipe this slice away / perfect blue and glass splayed like sky slivers on the ground.
P.S.
I don’t know if this is finished, but for now it’s abandoned.