Juno, (Two Thousand and Eight) and years later, today is day number seven!

Flips! we're walking on
       the ceiling of the stars (the planet e?rth)
   upside out.  or:
    now we see ourselves (just a few)
       constantly on the verge (just a few) of-
That space-rocket didn't launch!

   Always waiting for that moment
       I'll, I might, I could dive into a -
     - so scared, so frightened -
             dive into a -
    and wake up with more than yo'ur bluez.

 

Epilepsy.

Author's Note

A more scientifically minded friend of mine had problems adjusting to the chaotic elements of this poem. On one hand, I don't think I'll change it due to having some personal connection to this poem, but I would be up for ideas on what might work.

Reviews

[PianoandPage]

i have no idea what to change. honestly this type of poetry sometimes baffles me.

i do like the line,

"Flips! we're walking on
the ceiling of the stars (the planet e?rth)
upside out. or:" - which gave me the sense of being completely disoriented, the rush of new experience.

the rest of the poem sort of seemed like an extension of that feeling but really the randomness lost me.