questioning gravity

why water runs away from water,
incomprehensible,
the boundaries of our knowledge;
nothing defined without having
boundaries. edges of the
universe: where are they? why can’t
we see them? if it’s just a mirror,
in one side out the other, in one ear;
why to be waiting; why a brain is linked
to a body, why a one-to-one. when
one is crushed, the other as well, yet when
the other done, not the same. why we yearn,
why we ache, why a consciousness at all.
inanimate object as well, not feel hot,
not feel cold? think it’s not so, think it
does. wish, in any case. waiting, the curse of
the young, the curse of ‘me.’ why does gravity,
why not release, why not now. why can’t
water run uphill, why no sight in dark,
if blind, if blinded, what then. why speech
so much, talking, why don’t words fall
to the ground, driven down by their own
density? release impeccable, all at once,
then nothing after; nothing left. yet think
enough forward motion, inertia, keep going
after initial ascent. powerful feeling.

we breathe

we breathe fire in the nighttime,
and the waking world recoils.
we breathe hatred in our own minds:
we breathe, we breathe, we breathe.
leave it all in balled up sheets,
in sweaty, sodden socks,
leave yourself in a million magazines,
read and discarded, hardly appreciated
at all. let the world
leave its mark on you and be
subsumed, entombed in knowledge
and unable to break away from it.
worry about your job, about your
friends, about your family. let the world
put its leash on you. we breathe in
hope and breathe out frustration. we
breathe in love and breathe out fear.
we breathe in nerves, temptation,
anticipation, sacrifice, stupidity,
and we breathe out
all that we can. we breathe out
as much as possible, trying not
to hold our breath too long. what
we breathe at night, though, that
is what we should strive to be. that
is what is purest. that is who
we already almost are.