I’m Not Big on Conspiracies, But…

January 5, 2015
by Michael
comments 16
Poetry

I’m not big
on conspiracy
theories,

but, man

when
your heart
becomes a field
of grinning beings
pulling rubies
out of a passed hat

and, there

that goddamned
magnificent moon
is staring you down
with a pregnant candor
that makes rocks moan
in their sockets
and try to
sneak you answers
to the question
of your existence,

and all this with
the whole domed sky
watching,

I do
grant you
there’s a certain
bald logic
to keeping
on your toes.

16 Comments

    • Michael says

      Thanks, Alia! Perfect. Your directness is definitely appreciated. I was wondering what that was! That’s what it eventually distills down to for all of us, isn’t it… 🙂

      Michael

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    • Michael says

      I’m not moving at all in this world, am I.

      I was so delighted by your comment earlier today I made it onto the long list of incredible beings who have laughed out loud at their desk for seemingly no reason at all. Then, fingers back to the keys. Let’s all pretend that never happened, shall we?

      Michael

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      • Hariod Brawn says

        Thank God for those who have a sense of humour, is what I say. As we know from our discussions over at John’s place, the ways of the world can be cruel enough to bear as it is. After I hit the ‘post comment’ button, I panicked that referencing 9/11 might have been out of bounds, so to speak, to you folk who live nearby to the scene of that great tragedy. Not everyone can appreciate context, which in humour, is pretty much essential. H ❤

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        • Michael says

          Yes, the ways of the world can back us into a corner where all we have left is our ability to laugh, or cry– our ability to share directly what it means to be human. Nothing funny about that whatsoever. Very serious stuff, that.

          Michael

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  6. Andrea says

    This reminds me of back when I was in high school, not a deep thinker, not a big contemplator of the universe. Just a young girl hanging out in the world. One night I had a group of friends over; one boy had a pick-up truck. He was rather quiet and didn’t stand out much in the crowd. Somehow we both ended up laying in the bed of the truck looking up at the stars. And I think, this poem reached back in time and touched me that night. There was no romance, not even any talking; just two humans, with no thought for a universe conspiring with itself to enliven us, looking up at the stars and falling into quiet wonder.

    Yes, I certainly pulled rubies from your passed hat that night, back in time. Funny memory this triggered. Always on my toes, ready for dancing, ready for adventure, or simply ready to just look up.

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    • Michael says

      You mean when you were a deep thinker in disguise? Seen a few of those. Been there. Amazing how we have those memories, those moments when Life was peeking through a crack in the sky curtain to check on us, and we had no idea. But somehow the sweetness of that time activates some kind of mental shutter, and we capture them, and then years later they are reactivated.

      I was probably four years old when we moved to a new house, and I have this bottled memory of a friend of mine from our old house came by with her parents. We were standing on a stack of logs at dusk, and I swear one of us was asking the other one something like, What is it that you hear inside of silence? There’s something in there… What do you think that is? And we both listened. And we both heard it.

      Then we got on with our lives and never saw each other again.

      Michael

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