My Voice


My voice is lyrical quirky
leaning toward physics
yet mystic: the cubing
of the spherical, a choice
for meaning of the real,
a parenthetical gut feeling,
intuition; fishing for answers
thwarting marchers for dancers,
the prancers that must
muss the chalk-lines, the
semi-permeable, perforated
square lines, the un-solid
earth riddled with fault lines—
the boiling magma under
the plates that jostle like
a second thought jigsaw
idea, subverting Pangaea
into a puzzle discontinuous,
but all of these continents
uneasy in oceans under the
changeable weather attacks
wondrous, yet sporadically
frightening in its reliance on
chance: the safety promised
from science, . . .