Soft Shells

•÷•

Of the passersby stimulating us

we know only raw signals voiced

from distant fortified axon hillocks

which appear as coded weather

at once conditional and mysterious

 

Truly we know little of the mind

other than our own, and that’s

the tenuity of a hair

 

As we grow and move along

our senses encounter vibrations

from other warm passing bodies

those soft shells we call friends

 

Fluty tubules of musical flesh

composing gutter hunches

to strengthen our connections

until our understandings transition

hydrogen into helium fire-bloom

bathing us in the light of knowing

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2 thoughts on “Soft Shells

  1. How the hell do you come up with ideas like “fluty tubules of musical flesh”? This language doesn’t come from earth. Your stuff is on another plane, one flying into a wormhole.

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