Lost in the thicket of my madness,
my mind traces the fold lines
of an origami paper; a crane
deconstructed and flattened
back to two dimensions.
When seen in the burnt orange light
of the receding sun, you realize
that everything complex and amazing
share the same essence with all other things.
A story is made of paragraphs, which
are strings of letters, and that love poems
are fundamentally rhythms of a heartbeat
tapping flesh and ribs.
And that the universe that cradles
you and me in the arch of its back
is simply our home; that we are just
two cosmic bodies waltzing in the dark.
Plastic Hearts
Out on the parking lot is a pile
of cheap plastic hearts made in China,
melting under the Texas sun.
One-time use synthetic love
to be disposed of when the
morning light invades the city.
Somehow, letters evolved
into 99-cent Hallmark cards
offering simple rhymes written
by depressed copywriters.
It’ll go well with the fake roses
on your dresser
that never wither and die.
Bionote
Michael Mira is a writer and photographer based in Houston, Texas. His poems have appeared in various print and online publications, such as The Nervous Breakdown, Carcinogenic Poetry, Denver Syntax, Mused: BellaOnline Literary Review, among others.
I love your poems. Brilliant work.
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