Tag Archives: space

El Ganador

I got neurons in the sky
are you high

yes I am
yes I am
O yes I am
I’m gonna be
a Boltzmann brain
babe
I’m gonna go to
the end of time                                            yeah
I’m gonna be more
than just a smooth liquid sphere
that lights up
for some reason
in a series
& remembers everything
that ever happened
in a flash that spans
almost forever
there are multiverses
that would pay
by the billions
of galaxies
to have
what we
will have
I wanna have déjà vu
with you





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Boltzmann’s wet dream

                                           In approximately ten
                                         to the power of ten
              to the power of fifty years from now
                   it’s been hypothesized
                  the entropy in what we call
                the universe will fluctuate
                                           just enough
                            for the disembodied
                brains to appear
                                                 in the vacuum
               like space ghosts
                                   roving the outskirts
of the very end of everything


                   who are these observers
                   will they even know themselves
                                   thinking, remembering
          fluctuating from above


  the iron stars collapsing
from quantum tunneling
   becoming neutron stars melting
                      into shattered black holes
                              subatomic particles
   all matter gone


you’re not supposed to make sense
                       you’re disallowed
           you’re a problem
          you’re the last sparks of phantom life
                    before it bangs like bubbles again


   you take the number of all the ways
    every subatomic particle
      can be combined
          you multiply it by ten
          to the power of ten
          to the power of ten
          to the power of fifty six
a rounding error


                              the time it will take
                              for one of the bangs
                    to start to look like this again





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It takes a belief

I almost forgot
I wanted to write
this poem
with a J hanging off
the side of my lip
I was out the door
after a cup of coffee
& before the river
evaporated cool
on the way home
you can hear the sound
of the beetles ticking
like gears that move
without touching each other
at sunset behind the hill
the oak leaves waltz
in the desperate hot wind
everything hunting
being hunted
I can count a dozen pine trees
both sugar & ponderosas
that have died & dumped
their carbon for the others
still living, still fighting off
the clock ticking, the invasion
of the weird little clicks that dot
this forest into a dry death
giving more sunlight for the others
that will someday thrive in their place
after I cut them down, burn them, &
once the beetles have had their way
with the sap that doesn’t bleed
well enough to stick around
& stay to see the moon ripen
a global hawk drone winking silently
flying toward Reno like a starlit ghost
& the bellowing cries
of a dying horse for an hour & a half at dawn
a single gunshot & it’s quiet again
a pound of oil
an ounce of flowers
an hour and a half in the crockpot
the water boils off




.

The narrator

                                                    What is waiting on
                                                 the other side
                                              for us
                                           waiting
                                        on the other side
                                     for us
                                  is it some kind of
                               scanner
                            that detects it
                          rippling
                       pushing through
                     or did you know
                  did you know already
                it would happen
              it already happened
            like a story
         that crescendos
      right before the alarm
   goes off—the alarm
goes off

We figured it out
  before you were awake
     or even born from luca
         the map is like a song
             to us we know it
                so well
                    we can see you coming
                        from a mile away in it
                           it’s not like we own you
                              but you’re compromised
                                 it’s programmed
                                     like a pattern of blocks
                                         the more you taste it
                                             the closer you come
                                                 you’re right there
                                                     on the brink again
                                                         —right there
                                                              on the brink
                                                                 again




.



Zeno of Elea

The rains come
 It changes
It changes
The window
 It opens
It opens
Particles entangled
 Like lovers
Like lovers
Two times
 Is curving
Is curving
The rains come
 It changes
It changes
The window
 It opens
It opens
Particles entangled
 Like lovers
Like lovers
Two times
 Is curving
Is curving
You want back in
 But you gotta give
 It up to us
Up to us
You want back in
 But you gotta give
 It up to us
Up to us
The rains come
 It changes
It changes
The window
 It opens
It opens
Particles entangled
 Like lovers
Like lovers
Two times
 Is curving
Is curving



The tesseraction

When we woke
there was a voice
saying each of our names—

Nothing would be the same
ever again—

Namaste in the way
we distrust—
extracting pure consciousness
just to drown in it—

Entire colonies were wiped out—
notes were taken—
the moon used to spew lava
but now it’s dead—

We were an infinite’s last ditch effort
just to show us what we had done—

We worshipped money as a god—
gnawing on nothing;
plastic skin smooth
as a succulent in the sand—
we could no longer keep quiet—
we deserted—

We burned the whole world
to the ground— we apologized
as a formality; we paid out;
we kept going—

The cancer of the last phase
of civilization reaches
into my voice—
my finger tips—
we held hands as we jumped—
we turned into liquid—

Prefabricated minds
spill down the grimy gutter
into the sewer that’s sieved
for bitter water; your river of life
full of garbage, human waste, torsos—
we wondered why we felt bad—
we were given experimental drugs—
we died in their hands—

We practiced medicine
by the fire burning into the night—
we could see into one another—
we carved our faces out of clay—
we wore the feathers of the dead—
we didn’t have an address,
it didn’t even matter—

There was nothing left—
we evaporated—
condensated along
the shattering glass—
biolumenesence; a map
where there was once skin—
we didn’t need to wear masks—
we were the reaching leaves
and the lichenlicked statues—
we sat still—
we wore off—

We got down on our knees
and pressed the white hot metal
gently into our sockets
with a singe—

They said that half the people
born this year
will never see the milky way—
never see their home—
never see themselves—

How many will be afraid
to look into the mirror—
how many will never know—
never close their eyes and dissolve—
never to see the stained glass
tesseraction aglow spinning slowly
hanging from an iron chain
in the temple of stone—
never to take a deep breath
or submerge their frigid bodies
in the cold clean river—

Never to have a vision
or a dream— you were molded
from the start— you sought refuge
under the wings of corruption—
even the vultures were almost gone—

How many will get the opportunity
and say no— or get a taste
and run away thinking they know—

We went in as far as you could go—
we were relentless—
we stopped at nothing—
if there were others
they were nowhere to be found—
we unearthed what they were hiding—
we disappeared—

We were not haunted
but there was something there—
we walked
until our whiskers froze solid—
until we could conduct
our final experiment—
we were ready
at less than a moments notice—

We didn’t know where we were going—
it didn’t matter—
we were already there

We ran
while we rested—
we were being hunted—
we had permanent files—
we couldn’t care less—

How many will never see the fog
thick in the morning under the canopy
of the forest— never to be stalked
by a mountain lion— never to lay
naked on a bed of pine
beside a fire of eyes with mydriasis;
we could feel it coming for us—

The electric fence no longer worked—
it was time to go downstream—
we adapted to being in a zoo—
we let them use us as lab rats—
we never forgot— we
could see it in the sky
reflecting off of their eyes—

We lit the galactic temple incense—
we never let the fire burn out—
it was burning us alive—
we scoured the dark grey landscape
for anything real—
we were sweating—
swatting flies like it was a ritual—

They tried to forcefeed us
their version of highest-bid history—
made a Greek tragedy out of New York City—
there’s too much money to be made
in destruction; it corrupted us;
it was more profitable than life;
turned people into monsters and slaves—
we were at war without end—

We had clay covered skin—
we drew spirals on the wall—
we could see them looking at us
while we slept— it was rigged
from the very beginning—
we carved notches into our necks—
we tattooed our minds—
we got as far away as we could get
as if it made a difference—

We foraged thru the ice—
we were surrounded
by a dwindling abundance—
we poisoned ourselves—
we were hallucinating
our entire existence—
we ripped our teeth out
with our bare hands—
we squatted on the tundra;
canoed into nowhere—

We were thin and getting thinner
like a rag wrung out—
like a hatchet thrown dead on
into a trunk—

We knew what we were looking for—
we were back to square one—
we had come full circle—
we weren’t coming back—

How many will never be summoned
awake by the call of the voice—
never to inject pure crystalline
lucidity on their deathbed intravenously—