where blue meets blue

a world where stars live in the ocean

those are the boundaries of his Possible

where blue and blue meet

in boundless bardo

and just when I saw it taking shape in the distance

his 4-year old finger points out that it is neither framed nor contained

but a confluence.

“mom, look at the stars in the ocean”

what stars mean to him, I have trouble remembering

and what stars mean to me…

just another story called science.

something passed around by edition,

instead of by campfire,

by grandmother.

What is truly the distinction, the distance,

between that above the horizon,

and below?

one a reflection of light.

the other a reflection of light.

one a perception.

the other perceived.

one white-capped water.

the other white-capped drops of water.

one the filtering of color through atmosphere.

the other the filtering of color through water.

till they meet together,

in blue meets blue

and bleed.


(Sometimes motherhood leaves you with nothing but chicken-scratch sentences. But I’m trying to write like I take deep breaths during the day. That’s my legal disclaimer for the next 40-days of chicken-scratch where I’m meant to be on professional sabbatical but am quite technically still the mother of a 4-year old and 1-year old who has only the hour before sunrise and the lucky chance of a synchronized nap).

(Visited 167 times, 1 visits today)

Leave A Comment

Your email address will not be published.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