of the unseen,
quivering truths linger,
suspended in fragile clarity—
worlds layered,
frozen in time.
a quiet luxury
that only beginnings bring,
its hollows exhale
the promise of a new but tender dawn.
a fractured, adversarial expanse
where dreams could easily shatter
against barren red dust.
a garden on Mars,
petals unfurling
to defy the void,
while roots grip fiercely
to everything we left behind.
Be well and make the most of this day.
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Poetry should move us, it should change us, it should glitch our brains, shift our moods to another frequency. Poetry should evoke feelings of melancholy, whimsy, it should remind us what it feels like to be in love, or cause us to think about something in a completely different way. I view poetry, and all art really, as a temporary and fragile bridge between our world and a more pure and refined one. This is a world we could bring into creation if enough of us believed in it. This book is ephemera, destined to end up forgotten, lingering on some dusty shelf or tucked away in a dark attic. Yet the words, they will live on in memory. I hope these words become a part of you, bubble up into your memory when you least expect them to and make you feel a little more alive.
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We are definitely living in exciting times. With a lot of hopefulness (and anxiety) which seems to have gone into your garden. Lovely.
I still feel like we are a long way off from making gardens on Mars! Assuming you are being a little literal here. I think it will likely happen, but we haven't even put a structure on the moon yet. I think that's probably the first big step. I don't know if we will even see that in our lifetime.
Great word & agreed 💯
The matrix glitches and there is a garden on Mars. Also there was no pandemic and your father and mine still watch TV sitting, each, on their favorite couch. The matrix glitches and my nephew never got bone cancer and became a great athlete. Your book, broke sales records and you have become a reference for many people. The matrix glitches and the Hive reaches a value never dreamed of. The leaders of the world are different, more responsible and intelligent ones. Chavismo never existed and people never had to leave Venezuela. The matrix glitches and you have just seen through your window a radiant sun, while you are getting ready to go to the beach. A hug, Eric
This was a great way to characterize poetry. I love the idea of it being a bridge into a more pure and refined world.