Sparks, spores, and space
A few new things from me:
A mushroom, fruiting body of the universe.
A poem and a painting that go together.
SPACE
Solid black astral
afterbirthed mist in time
swept from the firmament
leaving nothing.
I should recognize
in starlight’s absence
the free-floating twist
sharp cold of the Before
and the Zen Koan which reads,
“What was your name
before you were born?”
Nameless, breathless
smooth pupils wide
my reflection stares back.
It claws at my faceplate
to pull inside
greedy, hungry, lonely
I hold her close.
She calls me home.
Join me for National Poetry Month/NaPoWriMo : https://cohost.org/leahjayart