spell (a poem)

Tuesday, January 6, 2026

Head in the sand won’t cut it.
The triggers will find you.

I start wrong on purpose.

Dissonance.
Split-screen living.

Fruit Ninja, 2013.
Plants vs. Zombies.
Angry Birds everywhere—
a thousand clean taps,
everything new,
all the time.

I’m in the house, alive because
someone made it so.

Old Man Logan—
not a badass,
just banged up
and still moving.

Autobiographical.
Inventory taken.
Culture referenced.
Anchors dropped.

Add a few more nodes
and let the intelligences—
machine and bio—
do what they do.

Remember the pain.

Same sky,
different constellations
once the viewer is wounded.

Pause.
Selah.
Choose the next move.

Build it—
protomolecule loose in space.

The crew needs a captain.
The orbits hold.
Gravity counts.
Light loads the bones.

Whoa.

Human moment.

Hold my hand, babe.
Don’t let go.

I’m having a spell—
and this one
is blasting.