top of page

Hydrogen


I hold burning splints, with expectant brain

before my choiceness, sense the open ends of test tubes of gas, my squeaky heart pops


Ends of my brain hold, with expectant splints before the gas tubes, I sense burning squeaky pops of choiceness, test my open heart


--

(Remembering a chemistry experiment with fun wordplay)


Recent Posts

See All

War

The germs spun over gleaming theatre floors. Micro hands grabbed lives by their heartsick throats. The others were flat anti-germ...

Inside Creature

Here is a new poem that is featured on Poetry Worth Hearing episode 21. Thanks Kathleen! https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/kathleen...

Alarms

Alarms sound. No harms found. Diatoms do their work. Switching gas. A flip flop. A process. New access. Alarms sound. No harms found. We...

Kommentare


bottom of page