Swimming all the time

Telescopes reveal the heavens
buried deep within our brains
relics lying in the dirt

(not for amateurs, this
circulating blood)

Seemingly random singers
blossom harmonies
of the heart: overtones

Another found poem, sourced from this NPR article about “close listening” in the medical field.


Your first language after heartbeat:

Music. This foreign tongue, human,

is hard. It works slow and strange

in the mouth, bitter in truth and lies,

its grammar convoluted; the idioms

of face and body incomprehensible

to the non-native, but (carelessly

coached) you tried.

Until you stopped.

“Shut down,” they said: cold divorce.

Of course your heart never closed,

God knows you bled all unspoken

through chord and melody, but the

other, so rarely used, fell dissonant

at her feet.


When Prompted

The day more than halfway

gone gray clouds cool

evening birds uprising

endlessly over my head

(to the sky beyond drear sky?)


Shameful drivel-spouters

we come running

to shadowed whistle

(who am I to talk of ‘we’ who am I

to mistrust metaphor?)


Inspired by today’s NaPoWriMo prompt: Use five song titles from a randomized playlist in a poem. (Mine are Halfway Gone, Uprising, Over My Head, We Come Running, Shameful Metaphors, Who Am I?)