The Theory of Relativity and The Speed of Light

All the pretty lights
and blind me.
I stumble,
and try to grab on to something,
to keep from falling.

I don’t know which way to go.
What to say.
The years spin,
faster and faster.
You’d think,
it’d get slower,
cause of friction.

My grandfather used to tell me,
when he caught me flipping the light switch
on and off and
on and off again,
that it’d use up the light bulb;
and that the light switch
had only a number of on offs in it.

My grandmother
just told me,
that time might go by slow
in the beginning,
but it picks up speed,
as you got closer to the end.

Syllable Tapestries

those brown eyes

I lived before you,
as stone
or a shadow,
lost deep
within a cave.

these flaws of mine
pounding in the depths of my soul
when I speak to you.

Or perhaps,
when I gaze into your brown eyes,
as we talk;
I see a universe of stars
that bring me out of the cave,
to notice the yellow daffodils
which grow at your feet.

Yes perhaps,
behind those brown eyes
inside your skull
is a universe of dreams
I’d like to hear
and see.

poetry, Syllable Tapestries


It is water

I must drink

Nothing else

Will cleanse my soul.



You will hear it,


Our own sad story.


I’ve made mistakes.

with a kiss,

others, a fist,

some by running

while others standing still.


The sadness?


I inherited.

For inside me

is an unwavering light,

& no place to hide.


Do you recognize me now?