Free Verse
Static
Turn the television past its last channel and you'll catch it—a hiss so old it doesn't belong to the room. They say a little of that noise is not the antenna, not the wiring, not the neighbor's failing microwave. It is the faint remnant of light from the universe's earliest moments, stretched thin across billions of years until it became this instead:
By Aarsh Malik3 months ago in Poets
The Bee’s Fur
A faint shimmer gathers around the drifting creature as it moves through the warm field of color. Something invisible trembles there, a charged tension rising from each bloom, a subtle vibration reaching toward the soft fuzz that covers its small traveling body. The moment it hovers near a bloom, tiny grains leap toward it as though pulled by an unseen charge. They spring upward in bright bursts, sticking to the fuzz in sudden constellations.
By Tim Carmichael3 months ago in Poets
