mostly space

One of the more interesting concepts I learned in Chemistry class- these things we find dense and solid are mostly empty, molecules held together by van der Waals forces, invisible magical forces, atomic gravity, the fabric that binds things.

It was just tossed aside by the teacher casually, just a random statement, like, hey, here’s a bit of interesting trivia, but I thought about it a lot and still do – that space governs us and it’s mostly all there is; our substance is in fact emptiness.

The blacks in comic panels or films are often much more important than the whites. Negative space.  Direct the eye to the content by surrounding it with loss.  That’s life, it’s what it does, it shows us things through our grief, makes the eye wander without the reader even being aware.

I think about that space concept a lot, and I think about what it means that what we see is in fact not at all what is actually there; not-there. Yet, it is – atoms aren’t something we can USE- at least, not without a large budget, trained personnel, and the threat of radiation poisoning.

But this table, well, it holds up the keyboard on which I’m typing – that’s useful.  The helpful little atoms know not what they do, theysimply hover, they talk to each other and configure, reconfigure; they’re social animals.  But they’re naive. They don’t know that somewhere, far away, a distance asgreat to them as the sun is to us, they look like a table when they’re together.

We each do our little part – to someone far off, we humans probably look like something they find useful, though up close,we’re all stumbling around just trying to bond with each other, and sometimes getting it right. And sometimes, there’s an explosion.


Staring at the C

I spelled “besieged” – “beseiged”.  I forgot the rule.

I and E behave differently when C is around.  C walks into the word like he owns the place, and anything that follows is somehow changed, a little bit skittish and uncertain.  Vowels switch places, as if they’re scared, because nobody wants to stand next to him. C’s like a big tough guy, in a bad suit one size too small, and Ray-Ban sunglasses.  Tapping a baseball bat against his leg.  Waiting.

E could probably fight him off, if E chose to.  E is popular, always surrounded by other letters (unlike “I” or “A”), and there’s safety in numbers.  For some reason, though, E often chooses to remain silent.

Q is rarely around, but he and “U” are inseparable.  I wonder what will happen if Q ever finds out that sometimes, late at night when Q’s asleep, U has been seen mingling with other consonants.  Perhaps they have an open relationship.

The tyranny of C must be stopped.  Every once in a while, he gets out of line.  Someone needs to take C aside someday, and explain to him, patiently but firmly.

Someone should say, hey, get with the program, C.  There’s rules.  We can always have you replaced, you know, with “K” or “S”.

circling overhead

Carrionbirds roost;

feign sympathy, black-feathered.

Cautiously closing.


Quietly they pick memory clean of scraps,

the ravens, ravenous.


Her breath in soft plumes froze and glittered.

Snow to eyelash bound.

Danced on ice, fearing not its breaking;

awoke ourselves to winter.