It all boils down to how the universe stores information. For example: the surface area of a poem, like the chewing gum that comes with trading cards, it is a half-moon. The potholes meditate. Pink dusk.
The Earth is somewhat squished, pinched in orbit by our star. I walk to the window. Suddenly, rain. I read the letter. It said: The barometer of missing socks. Always where we haven’t been, and where we will never be again.
I walk to the door. It thunders. Just afterwards, listen closely. To the reverberations. The rain on the pane.
My reply.
naïve haircuts 
This poem is fantastic! The first stanza brought a smile to my face. “For example: the surface area of a poem, like the chewing gum that comes with trading cards, it is a half-moon.” Thank you for this!
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Thank you UsedLife, I’m very glad you liked it!
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Another great one, Bob!
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Thanks Worms! Glad you liked it.
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I have never thought of our earth being ‘squished’ but now —-this is what a poem should do: provoke new perspectives —
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Thanks John. Yes, I guess cause of the sun, we are somewhat squished. Glad you liked it.
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I adore this poem. All of it is wonderful. Too many good lines to quote but I love this one: “The potholes meditate.” The metaphysical correspondence between things. Wonderful, Bob!
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Thanks Sunra! Very glad you liked it.
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