there’s an idea that we’re
alive & don’t know it. that chaos is born from
the geometries of nightingales
& parabolas in bad weather
but there’s no such thing as chaos, friend, only an order you
don’t understand; we’re all staring at an
atlas of nowhere; lizards don’t change socks &
heroes don’t climb telephone poles or drive boxcutter vans
we’ve always known this.
the stars only shine on unwilling pastures. these
ethereal attitudes are nothing but orbits:
two moons, one distance
meditating under an oak tree
& on the seventh day
stayed like this forever
truth is no more than the last migration.
just like logic—the minute you use it, it’s already dead.
that’s the punch line, the sacraments of
wildflowers or the last failed
leap into poetry
if the world never ends, then
i’m safe & so are you; the earth is on a wheel
in the back of your mind
The Used Life 
18 responses to “Last Migration”
Brilliant!
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Thank you very much!
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You don’t need butterflies to move me with your poetry. This is some of the best you have written so far.
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Thank you. Feels like I’m creating my own cosmos or something.
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U are cosmos😍🥰
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☺️
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Really fantastic. Both surreal and deep. I love the last two stanzas.
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Thank you very much. I enjoyed writing this one. I’m happy you liked it.
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Wow, love this..”two moons, one distance
meditating under an oak tree
& on the seventh day
stayed like this forever”….stillness and rest found in perceived chaos
“truth is no more than the last migration.
just like logic—the minute you use it, it’s already dead.”…our thoughts are not what all of this is about…this life…so much spoken and then gone and absorbed into this perfect, balanced reality…
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I so much enjoy reading your insights. And I think you’re right about reality being balanced as it is and according to a logic we don’t understand.
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Reading “parabolas” instantly transported me to my high school math class, but I did not stay there for long because your poem quickly whisked me away to a land of contemplation, where mystery lives and where things are not what they seem. I love traveling the roads and visiting the worlds that your mind creates. 👏🏻
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Haha I forget now where I came across the word “parabola” recently, but I jotted it down in my notebook as an image to save for future use. 🙂 I think there is something very soothing–even exhilarating at times–about creating our own realities. I’m happy you enjoyed the little world in this poem.
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I do love when a word or phrase grabs my attention, to be used in an unexpected way on a later date. 📝 I absolutely agree. Creating our own realities is all that you mention and of course, highly creative. ✨
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Hello :))) just wondering whats the significance of the seventh day here ???
My astronomy gk is bad
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I feel like im on a different time zone In some beautiful european country altogether 😇
Though im in India enjoyign my nocturnal hours and havent slept yet its 6 am .. my solitude keeps me awake and get to do some reading
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Well, thank you for stopping by and reading my poem. Sorry you haven’t slept yet…in answer to your question: the seventh day is a reference to the Bible, specifically to the creation story in Genesis where God created the world in six days and “…on the seventh day God ended His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done.”
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Spectacular! I love the artwork with it, too. 🙂
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Thank you, my friend. I’m happy you liked it, and I thought the artwork was cool, too. 😎👌🏻
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