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Comb Jelly

February 27, 2016

 

struggling to sleep i search
the comfortable abyss

 

and find the only earthly light
is a dancing widow

 

on the wall, staring mindless
paralyzed in time

 

cross-section of a spinal cord
coming from nowhere

 

like a comb jelly floating in
the unknown universe

 

a frozen filament hurricane
of a pale white ice core

 

and i think this is the x-ray
of a lonely soul

 

macrosynaptic transmission
between man and trace

 

and the more i stare, the more
i mull that nothing matters

 

but this comb jelly stroking me,
steady as it goes

 

to sink below the stormy surface
and become still, stoic

 

corpse-posed, possessed of dust
dreaming weary in this ocean

 

decomposing into the oldest boats
in the fleeting life

 

the ones that meet the sunrise
after casting out the moon

 

and lasting one more life,
just a little more life…

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Ryan Oliveira

Ideas.  I'm full of them.

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