MJ-PP12

Was Michael Jackson killed?

Why does this matter?

Did Michael Jackson live?

Who’s seen the farthest star?

An astrophysicist, a human.

Who’s moved that rock
on
a tomb
so far away from here?

Does Michael Jackson live?

His hands turn the stone, the tool.

Who is writing time?

Priscilla Presley shapes what
she often wants.

She reshapes the Universe,

her glorious beacon,

the projector of dark into light.

Her glorious beacon-lit brow.

 

Poetry from tewkMehrtin.com

The Computers

I feel the same with these computers
still around me.
Brooklyn, 2004.
Chicago, 2018.
They’re still here.
Not the same computers.
But their forms and
with similar feelings,
similar smells.
Electrons activated on air.
Petroleum exhaust from the streets outside.
Wormholes have been ripped open
in our cosmic neighborhood.
But, the computers are still here
in their form and feelings.
I feel them.
I see them.
They will be something different
at some point,
but for now they’re still here within
the concrete, steel, and glass buildings
of the city
and the agencies.
The computers dream to be
deoxyribonucleic acid.
I feel it.
I have seen it.

Poetry from tewkMehrtin.com

Sojourn Pizza Sci-Fi

The fluffy pizza pillow,
I remember its fabric textures
my whole life.
Thinking this is life,
textures of fabric.
We eat them and they change us.
Then
we have fabrics running
all through us.
Until I die
in the future
on a space station
turning ’round a violet star.
I believe these fabrics
have lived me.
They have been me.
Me, the one who ate the
plush toy pizza pillow.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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