Continents May Have Shifted

Plate tectonic shift,
a slipped disc.
Our earthen spine,
an off-kilter axis.

Separate entities
from unnamed Oneness;
deep beneath,
the waters stir

& we gave us names
to document
our dissonance.

Language sprang forth
on the ocean’s waves,
on the froth of its jaws
as it full-moon howled.

Linguistic attempts
to connect the dots,
a reverent head nod
to underlying context,

we prayed
with the pointillism
of poignant speech –
reaching only so far
as an asymptote’s limits

You can still stand back.
See the forest,
see the flickered glitch
in the physical matrix.

Pangaeaic pangs
in the belly of
the world.

And in the shift
of continents,
the rattle and creak
of transition.

We live within background music
of our divergence
defining our struggle
in the choosing of schism.

Still the heart drum thuds.

We trace the skin
of global scars
entertaining the difference
of the whole and its parts



Eep, eep! Posting after a few, busy days. I will catch up with a few poems I scribbled and did not edit. Those to be posted soon.

It’s strange to me. Some of these things hit a groove and man, they FLOW. And then, an ironic amount like the actual content of this poem, man, they just feel like these separate things smashed together. Like all the concepts are there, but there’s a wrench in the gears. I may play with unedited streams of consciousness to focus on the purely aesthetic deliverance.


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