Skip to content

Aurora Borealis

August 9, 2011

My waking life is sometimes a dream

as if my brain is only just aware:


I found today That

I see the world in a perpetual trip

all is so real, unreal, but really surreal

have I been chosen?


Corn bubbles to boil in the bowl

like organic Tokyo box hotels

and screaming pain in lava


Water laps the muddy shore line

desolate repetition stomach churns

wet grass is submerged in mud again


We flower from the dirt

like those puffball wisps

that blow gently from a hand


Trees revolve like models of themselves

as I orbit and plastic plants can feel real

tearing off in strings like broccoli


Nature grows geometry and everything starts to feel like fractals

still the mountains shine gold at sunset


From → Poetry

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: