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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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