Chorus of Blue

Poem: Last Night, a Blood Moon

Posted by in Poetry, Ten Minutes

I.
Last night a blood moon
Super moon eclipse
I watched it dim through a double lens
Until sleep overtook me

We talked about the graptitude of the universe
And minutiae of our existence
Our bodies jutting out into space
And a billion stars-like ghosts lingering

II.
Moons circling suns
Supernova magnetism
Our sun the center of
one of millions

And when the day arrives
Some things will be altered
And others destroyed
The earth folded up, heavens revitalized

We muse of the distance from our heavenly neighbors
Like seeing one another across galaxies of stars
And what if each had a planet to themselves?
Laughter and awe
Gaseous Venus, a paradise we never realized.

III.
The air never cools
We could be out here all evening
And not a single secret of creation
Would ever be compromised

I yearn, in my smallness, to be held
As if at any moment I could float into space
Or dissolve into molecules
And return to the atmosphere

But there is only one chair,
so we talk instead
And I think how base is human love
How simple and unmesmerizing
When considered along side God’s love for His creation

How he hung the moon like a lamp
And painted the sun’s retiring
And gave us endless reflection
In the wide wide world
Insurmountable evidence
in the waves’ constant rising.

Freewrite: Listening

Posted by in Poetry, Writing

I have not known silence:
The dead of space
Where meteors plummet through darkness
Like water drops through black ink
Stealth and undetected
except the trail of light
left glittering.

I sit and meditate on words
Try to to clank two together
and create value, meaning
Reflection of a thoughtful heart
And I consider for a moment,
remarking on the silence.

Then the distant ring of cicadas
crickets, traffic passing through the rain
The fridge’s hum, fluorescent light
computer towers, air conditioning
my arms shifting across my thighs
Cat kneading the couch frame
Soft click of the keyboard
The baby coughing

A whole world littered with sound:
incessant-

I have never once
stopped listening.

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Freewrite: Gary Reads

Posted by in Poetry, Writing

Gary reads and his voice is like wool
Comforting, warm, and deep
Like a rumble in your chest
But softer, more soothing

I think of the little old man
Chain saw in hand
Felling tall, graying pine trees

And for a moment
the scent is here
Crisp, cool, astringent
And slightly sweet

He speaks of his late wife
The little old Asian woman
And I feel sad, consider his son,
Kai, I think…

Hope that he isn’t lonely.

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