Published: 16 June 2025

we all naturally float

we all naturally float
it’s a matter of fact
carried over a waterfall
bathing in Shangri-la
we all float with ease
it’s true some float more
than others, not to mention
those who are sinkers
but that’s not what
I’m thinking about
rest assured, it seems
a good time to remind you
we’re all born in water

we all naturally float
if not in nature at least
in mind, where, we pause
between pauses, spend hours
like minutes and minutes like hours
because time has no meaning
it’s just another illusion
not to mention a bubble
that’s for real, it rises
between you and me
both of us reflected in it
millions of people
a multitude floating in it
isn’t it wonderful how easily
we’re carried away

yes, we all naturally float
if everything is an illusion
this isn’t, join me
don’t believe otherwise
relax as we recline
upon an undulating surface
that suits us most
we shall drift over crevasses
the ruins of yesterday
requiring only this bubble
to rest upon, despite
the dreadful depths that lie
beneath; if you like
I’ll hold your hand
turn and say to you
if only to remind you

we all naturally float

More Poetry:

Paper time

Paper is a Time Machine, but it only goes backward in time.
Don’t ask where it begins, I don’t know where to begin,
but I know when you read you’re transported back in time.
I’m certain of that, but not much else. Is it part of the pencil

Radish

Santa Claus of the garden,
you bring snap of winter
to the mouth, crisp frosty heat.
Some call you icicle, watermelon,
breakfast, French, pink, orange, purple
(dirt had a real grip on that one.)

The killing and dismemberment of Osiris

Gods are murdered in ritual,
with family in attendance.
If not as executioners, then moral support.
The god must be torn apart
thrown into all that is and is not.
Sister brides always grieve
journey to join the god together,
as he has always been put back together.

Mom on deck

Call for Mom.
She’s needed on deck;
no one else will do.
Who could possibly replace her?
Santa Claus or God?

Related

Paper time

Paper time

Paper is a Time Machine, but it only goes backward in time.
Don’t ask where it begins, I don’t know where to begin,
but I know when you read you’re transported back in time.
I’m certain of that, but not much else. Is it part of the pencil

read more
Radish

Radish

Santa Claus of the garden,
you bring snap of winter
to the mouth, crisp frosty heat.
Some call you icicle, watermelon,
breakfast, French, pink, orange, purple
(dirt had a real grip on that one.)

read more

0 Comments

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *