You would make a great secret if I could keep you.

Armor

Check your watch,
circle the dots,
barely enough time
to kill
with all these
broken clocks.

A Cup of Theory

Personality is like a set of teeth.
We can mold to a certain shape in our younger years,
but only with some guidance.
After we come into place, we tend to stay that way permanently,
or until we just fall apart.

Some Nights Need Two Moons

Glowing orbs wrestle
like demons
taste the jalapeño
leaking from the leaves,
corners were made for
squares like us,
loitering, slowing
the pause to a drop
undripping,
pouring back
into the sky
like spring births
flowers, hours
upon hours,
hurting their backs
click into place
and yet the night
is only safe
under streetlights
and cigarette smoke.

I read this in my physics book

"The universe is not only stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we imagine."


I think that statement aptly sums up the incomprehensibility of the nature of our world.
Don't take the complexity of the world for granted!

I'm gonna make that my personal slogan.


I would also like to quote my fellow day tripper, Arash, in his beautifully simple claim on understanding our existence, "Life is trippy."

Yessir.

The Breathing Room

Woke up this morning,
Confused and coffeeless.
Sun snuck into
My room through the cracks
In the blinds and broke
Into yolk yellow rays
On the wooden floor.

The taste in my mouth
Was unusual.
I realized
The air was spring, and we
Breathe the sky,
In deep blue gasps
Until it snaps our lungs open
Like balloons. Without thinking
I put on my shoes, bit my lip,
And walked for miles
Down the shoreline.

Didn’t stop until
The sun was behind me
Sinking to sleep fast
Beneath the dull
Red edged horizon.

And I sat over the end
Of a lonely pier
Dangling my feet
Overlooking the sea
Wishing more of me
Was made of water
Or air.

And I thought,
If I exhaled long enough
Eventually my lungs would
Parachute themselves
Out my mouth, begging for a drop
Of wind.
And it finally happened
But I wasn’t awake to see it.

And when my eyes opened
The sky was made
Of dark blue bricks,
Waiting to crush us,
And the clouds were low
Enough to reach up and peel
From their permanent positions.

And although my arms
Were not as long as I thought them
I tried anyway.
I fell short and into a cough
Of sorts, throwing me backwards.

Breathing is funny, the way it just happens
Without our consent.

On the edge of that lake I stood, for what I am not certain,
But I imagined that I would have perhaps
Been better as a soft-shelled creature,
Scuttling and shuffling about the sand,
Under the surface of blue and green.

Sitting in the sand is the cheapest form of therapy,
Drawing circles around my feet
With a carefree hand.
I realized that there were other shells on the shore,
You just have to sift through the sand for a while
Until you find a good one.

Evening Lens

At 3:00 a.m. I decided to walk
To the diner down the street.

The waiter watches me
At the black and white checkered table,
As I stare at a glass of water
With the meniscus calmly sitting
At half-mast.
I gaze steadily for a few minutes
And then he asks me,
“So, is it half-full,
Or half-empty?”
Startled, I shift my glance to him
And answer politely,
“Sorry,
I ordered a strawberry milkshake.”

Righteous

So I guess I'm going to start this blog thing. I must say Arash Amini has inspired me to do this.

I have a lot of things to say, or write, that is. If anyone is out there, and cares, please take a gander.

Is this thing on?

Testing...