The Non-Existence Experience

Light-footed, the not being
Part of anything afloat
Found the seam in the shadow

And followed the sunlit thread
Up the golden afternoon
And across the unbroken

Waves over the lake’s surface
To hover right where the warmth
Of the afternoon reached down

To create a space of calm,
Deep green lights, something dreaming
Of not dreaming or being

Where not being was content
And comforted not to be.

Mixed Signals

Another day of paradox,
Courtesy of an odd body
That aches extra, getting good news,

That feels pleasant, learning some doom.
The lab and test results at dawn
Predicted acceleration

Of coming disintegration
Just as the torso felt better
And the thoughts seemed inclined to joy.

You never were an antenna,
Never good at reading the room,
You might as well ignore this flesh,

Or, better yet, ignore the news
And concentrate on contentment.

The Simultaneous Assembly and Disassembly of People in Hospitals

It’s hard to assess this.
You can be confident
Exactly this moment,

Whether measured by clocks
Showing the same numbers
Or by a slice through waves

Of the surf called spacetime,
Someone drew their last breath
And an infant its first.

In a coincidence,
While this is on your mind,
The hospital PA

Plays the lullaby chimes
That indicate a birth
Just now. Another life

On its way to being
Another person. Go,
Child, go! Someday you may

Pass through a hospital
Again, but that person
Hasn’t developed yet,

That you that you will be,
Material wisp dragged
About by the body

You’re also becoming.
Oh! Another chime rang,
Another starter kit.

Sundowner

No macroscopic creatures patrol
These rooms where the microscopic beasts
Require constant harrying to keep

Their numbers safely scarce. The humans
Have these rooms otherwise to ourselves,
Our cotton bedding, plastic wrappers,

Chrome-polished medical equipment,
Our innumerable inventions.
The idea is to protect the sick

And injured, stabilize the symptoms,
Process the persons and release them
Sufficiently healthy for the world,

Sufficiently healthy to survive
Another go ‘round in the wide world
Where micro and macroscopic run

Rampant around a minor planet
Only exceptional, if at all,
Thanks to elaborate survival.

Back in the hospital room, there’s work
To be done, units of transfusion,
Medicines in and as solution,

And, as sunset lights the surfaces,
The thought crosses that maybe there’s more
Than the elaborate survival.