National Poetry Month - Day 17

I enter the house of Saturn
running again from the return of the sun
I test her structures, sturdy yet unstable-
this is not a home for permanence
it is a home made of sticks, or straw; waiting
watching big bad wolves huffing and puffing at my heels

you've never been able to blow me away

Saturn writes love letters on wolves' breath
she wants to change my existence,
earthquake the value I've placed on this life
the motivation I've placed on my feet
she thrives on upheaval and her house is already a half-mess

I can't stay here forever...

I'm barely making it through today
limped my way through yesterday
running from the sun who's always three steps ahead of me
into the waiting arms of Saturn, who returned too, a lover...

photo courtesy of NASA

Happy Birthday to Me!

National Poetry Month - Day 9

You are: me
driving towards the westward dipping sun,
squinting eyes and burnt retinas; the focus is askew.
I blink back shine-
the punishment for being heliocentric,
following stars; galactic paparazzo.

Blame gravity:
tidal pools and kissing shorelines.

Blame orbits:
invisible lifelines weaving through the constellations.

Circumstantial, evidence isn't science
conjectures are hypotheses without experimentation. Truth is tangible
a theorem tried and tested.

Paradigm Shift: You are blindness...