atomic ancestors (20220407)

webs collect
in the shadowed corner
above my head
over my desk

i try not to disturb them

no arachnid artifice
no dried up husks
offered as proof
of services rendered
for peaceful coexistence

just a little electrical charge
a little dust
tracked in from outside
some dead skin cells
the hair from the dogs or
maybe the cat who even now
tries to claw her way
up my leg to settle in my lap
or purring against my chest

these are atomic ancestors
descendants yet unborn
related not by dna
but by nuclear half-life
electron clouds
vibrating strings

no ashes for me after death
for i have spent my life
spreading myself generously
with every itch scratched
and every casual exhalation

something red (20170703)

i am a brick
or
i am made of bricks

one is reductive
the other an amalgam

both are red and brittle
and you can draw on the sidewalk
with a bit of it
clutched in your fist
hanging of the the bottom
of your hand
like a turd
that won’t drop

they say the jews
made bricks in egypt
and built the pyramids
even though that’s
probably not the case
but who knows

i have a time machine
in my head
but it’s faulty
no matter
how i try to travel to the future
the damned thing always pulls up
to a new york apartment
i don’t know and wasn’t
expecting

a doorman opens the door
his coat is red
the color of bricks