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Literature
To Dream of Falling
I dream of falling.
It's not a dream common to angels. After all, we have a pair of wings--or two or three--and we can use them. We float upon the air, dance among the stars, shape the clouds with our breath, and so on. All that lovely wordplay to describe an indescribable. A joy, a graceless power. Flight.
Humans dream of it often, I am told. It makes sense. They have no wings save for what they create with their hands. Airplanes, hang gliders, helicopters. Kites. They are obsessed with the sky, more so than the angels themselves, many of whom will fly three thousand miles rather than walk across the street.
And yet I dream of f
Literature
Icarus
Sun girl,
the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.
Do not let anyone
clip your wings;
you were made for the skies.
Literature
truths
i.
there are 2 things that not even the most
forceful of rains can cleanse me of:
-memories
-mistakes
ii.
sometimes, i feel like a caged lion.
only with a lot more impatience
and a lot less resilience.
iii.
i have yet to discover what it means to be content.
i am either too stagnant or too fluid.
no middle ground.
iv.
i have mastered the art of leaving.
it's the idea of moving on that still haunts me.
v.
i fear that the light in my eyes is so dim that it will burn out
before even i have a chance to see the world with it.
vi.
i am not as clever as i pretend to be.
vii.
someone needs to teach me that
i don't need reassurance; i
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I've been working on this one forever. 
My husband is very into space. Okay, that's putting it mildly. His greatest dream is to go to space, he watches most everything on the Science Channel and in his spare time works on finding a unified theory of the universe, which would solve the discrepancy between quantum theory and the theory of relativity.
He says he's making progress.
So I watch some of this stuff with him and I listen to him theorize. But when I hear things like "Gravity is not the air pulling us down toward it; it is space pushing us down and away" (which is almost a direct quote from a documentary), well, I think in poetry, and so I start extrapolating metaphor.
That's kind of what this poem is about. He is trying to solve the great cosmic riddle, and I'm playing with pretty metaphor. But we're both artists. So because I'm me, I kind of wrote it from the perspective of a person with a serious inferiority complex. Possibly because when I first began penning poetry I myself suffered from one, and so that is my default-poetry-setting, or just because it is fertile ground for waxing poetic. Not sure. In any event, I don't actually feel inferior. Being a poet is every bit as good as being a physicist.
Some poetic science stuff that inspired me with this poem:
The vibrations made by the sun as it burns are at the correct frequency to be music notes. I'd love to know what song they play.
String theory is the idea that the entire universe is composed of unbelieveably small strings, all vibrating "like the string of a cosmic cello". So the whole universe is basically one gigantic symphony.
Parts of our DNA that we do not yet know the reason for, may hold keys to determining just where in universe life may have originated from. Evidence continues to mount that life on earth actually came from an asteroid or something similar, but may not have flourished until it was exposed to water.
The earth was formed from the debris of dead stars. So yes, we are all composed of stardust.
Since black holes swallow all light, the only way they can be detected is by an X-ray signature that resembles a "heartbeat".
Thanks for reading.
Entering this in this contest here: [link] celebrating NASA. All the cool facts and handy metaphors I used in this piece are only possible because of NASA, and my husband and I often lament the lack of funding for NASA, especially considering what a tiny fraction of the budget it encompasses.
And now, pretty pictures of space:
My husband is very into space. Okay, that's putting it mildly. His greatest dream is to go to space, he watches most everything on the Science Channel and in his spare time works on finding a unified theory of the universe, which would solve the discrepancy between quantum theory and the theory of relativity.
He says he's making progress.
So I watch some of this stuff with him and I listen to him theorize. But when I hear things like "Gravity is not the air pulling us down toward it; it is space pushing us down and away" (which is almost a direct quote from a documentary), well, I think in poetry, and so I start extrapolating metaphor.
That's kind of what this poem is about. He is trying to solve the great cosmic riddle, and I'm playing with pretty metaphor. But we're both artists. So because I'm me, I kind of wrote it from the perspective of a person with a serious inferiority complex. Possibly because when I first began penning poetry I myself suffered from one, and so that is my default-poetry-setting, or just because it is fertile ground for waxing poetic. Not sure. In any event, I don't actually feel inferior. Being a poet is every bit as good as being a physicist.
Some poetic science stuff that inspired me with this poem:
The vibrations made by the sun as it burns are at the correct frequency to be music notes. I'd love to know what song they play.
String theory is the idea that the entire universe is composed of unbelieveably small strings, all vibrating "like the string of a cosmic cello". So the whole universe is basically one gigantic symphony.
Parts of our DNA that we do not yet know the reason for, may hold keys to determining just where in universe life may have originated from. Evidence continues to mount that life on earth actually came from an asteroid or something similar, but may not have flourished until it was exposed to water.
The earth was formed from the debris of dead stars. So yes, we are all composed of stardust.
Since black holes swallow all light, the only way they can be detected is by an X-ray signature that resembles a "heartbeat".
Thanks for reading.
Entering this in this contest here: [link] celebrating NASA. All the cool facts and handy metaphors I used in this piece are only possible because of NASA, and my husband and I often lament the lack of funding for NASA, especially considering what a tiny fraction of the budget it encompasses.
And now, pretty pictures of space:
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