1,394 Readings | 0 Ratings


I am wordless bound. 

What is a poem,

but something


floating through space?

I’ve begun thinking

maybe consciousness


is not a fluke –

through evolution

the body figured out


how to think about itself. 

We really do have the power

to evaluate


what’s right in front of us.  The mind

is real.

Truth be told, we wanted a girl. 


I thought I could curtail the space

for that, grab hold of the furniture, society.  You’ve

set it loose.  I’m so self-aware


I can’t hear a thing;

just the grass

my own mortality.  The arm’s length

of time, in each banal task, speaking stars, on this mote

suspended in a sunbeam. 

My son, since


you’re here,

we are astronauts.   






Posted 09/21/18
Comments (0)
Would you like to leave a comment on this profile? Join Ink Node for a free account, or sign in if you are already a member.