Atoms free their
energy by collision.
The release
of luminance.
Everything there is
must owe its
blessed existence
to the crunch of
calamity.
Through the failure to
evade.
Mountains rise
from a pair of plates—
collided. A buckle
and a fold
like a smash along
the freeway. The girl
upon a gurney
won the triathlon
one year hence,
citing
her strength of will,
upon told
she’d never walk.
People expire daily
from the collision of
their coupes. Look at the
endless faces
that arise
to take their place.
You surely would have
chanced a different man,
had Lucius for a son.
Look upon the vista
of your dream—watch them
clutch their Griffins,
every laud
& poet laureate
in the land. I gave you nothing
of the kind. This verse
will be forgotten
in an hour.
We fell in love
the day that we
collided, on the carnival’s
bumper cars. Eyes
that slammed in seconds,
fusing in the midst
of the utterly
absurd,
another random
burst
from a pair of
clumsy things,
appearing to be
blind despite the light,
unwilling to spy the
road where we are going.
Andreas Gripp
January 18, 2025
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