The Cure

“Don’t worry, Morton, it’s a simple procedure. And non-invasive too!”

“Um…alright. But, it just seems kind of big.” Morton pointed to the c-clamp that was as large as a baby elephant.

“Yes, it is quite big.” The doctor nodded. Silence permeated between the two. “Oh! You were wondering about the logistics! Well, that’s what I have my partner for!”

“Your partner?”

“Um, Sydney!” The doctor called-out. That’s when one of the walls of the doctor’s office opened-up and an immense, spindly red man crawled into the office like a spider that lost control of its limbs.

“Yesss sirrrr?” The red man said with a smile.

“Hello Sydney, today is your lucky day. Morton here needs a procedure performed on him.”

The red man’s eyes glistened beneath the fluorescent lights. The red man clawed for the c-clamp and shifted slowly towards Morton.

“Wait! Wait! I don’t get it!”

“Don’t be silly, Morton,” the doctor said. “As I explained before, we are just going to delicately clamp your head and leave a modest amount of pressure on your temples for fifteen minutes and–”

“But how is this supposed to cure my depression?”

The doctor thought for a moment. “Wait, you said depression?”


“Oh. I thought you said measles.” The doctor motioned Sydney back to his chamber. Sydney let out a sigh as he dropped the clamp and then disappeared behind the door. “Poor guy. It’s really the only thing he looks forward since the divorce.”

“So…” Morton said.


“My depression?”

“Oh, right! Yeah, there’s no cure for that.”


“I mean, there’s pills and therapy and stuff. And plenty of people get good treatment out of that. The key is finding what works for you which…is a lifelong process sometimes. But then again, maybe the clamp–”

“No. I think I’m good. I’ll try the pills and the therapy…or whatever…” Morton left the office feeling…somewhat better. But the words reverberated: “a lifelong process…” He knew the doctor was right, but maybe he should have given the clamp a chance. Maybe that would have worked for him. But it was too late as he walked back to his car and back to the solitude of home.

Written for Reena’s Xploration Challenge #174. Not sure what the source of the image is but reverse image search led to this Twitter account.

No Man’s Land

There was a time when time
Broke-down. You may not remember,
Happened the other day, but I was there.
Moments were frozen to themselves.
The sky stood above silence. The cars
Were sad, purposeless structures;
The people within had no clue
That time had a malfunction
And that they were no longer alive
Nor dead. But, things were fixed
And everything rushed along
Beyond knowledge as if the time
When time broke never occurred.
Not even the universe knew
As it continued to retread its grave.

Written for Reena’s Xploration Challenge #172.

The Latest Year – Poems for January

2021 and I finally
Wake-up. It wasn’t a coma,
Just a long, dedicated nap.
Somewhat refreshed,
I can now see
In my tiny window
The streets filled with flame,
The buildings swaying
And the people shooting
Each other and their mothers
and at the moon
With a fresher gaze.
I sigh and close the shutters
And go searching for cereal
Until I find a black hole
Situated in my kitchen.
And I’m still hungry.

2022 and I finally
Wake-up. It wasn’t death,
Just a light vacation
From life. I fling from my bed
And notice the world
Is but a silent haze now
With shadow-people
Wandering about. Slowly.
The sky: a thick, yellow ghost
And I’m disappointed to find
That the black hole has
Stretched towards the breakfast nook.
Fortunately, an image is beamed
Into my eye: an old man
Letting us know we no longer
Have to fear: peace has arrived.
I shrug and continue my search
For heart-healthy sugar-pops.

Written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge #167.


Imagine this: a sheet of paper
Stretching flat for miles and miles,
For years and years, until
A necessary distortion, a tiny
Scratch with no real owner.
A slight ripple comes, but flatness
Quickly returns, not seeing
The light burp of particulates
Spreading. Years and years,
Miles and miles, the particulates
Escape from the scratch
And tumble among themselves
Until heavy things start to form.
The heavy things are too heavy
For the paper, and start bending
Flatness until gravity and dimensionality
Occur. The flatness is gone.
The paper becomes a misformed
Space. That’s how I often see it.

We believe in the peace
Before the great occurrence,
But it wasn’t even peace.
This complexity is just the face
Of a dying system, you might say,
It will never be whole, never be
Flat again, but this is just another
Feeling that humans have.
We’re not big fans of the chaos
We choose to see. What happened
To Paradise, what happened
To Singularity? We tell ourselves
We can never go back, dressing
Ourselves and distant suns
With the voices of misery.

Written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge #158.

The Next

The wise men’s words don’t mean a thing.
We all know them, but the day is its own
Grasp. We’re barely people. We’re just
an emotion that this moment gathers.
Maybe once the final moment gathers
Us to its soft bed, we might become
A little more, but, more than likely, we will
Just be fear or regret or happy, but never
Something of our own assembly.

Written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge #156. The prompt provided was this short video below.

Within Design

Pull away the skin,
The musculature, the bones,
And nearly all the components
That stricture humanity,
And you will see the threads,
The pale ribbons forced
To ignite meaning.
The world known is borne
Of this web that now sits
Sullen without shape.
Now, you know this.
But for a while we couldn’t
Even imagine that our universe
Rolled through soft alien claws
Beneath our faces. I still
Can’t fully believe it.

It’s a bit strange how little
We knew of ourselves
And the air falling from
The leaves. Shoved blind
Onto terrain; we didn’t even know
How we were alive,
What was pain. Even today,
I don’t understand the aching
Glowing through my gut.
We didn’t decide our design,
Nor were we given the code,
Taking us thousands of years
To understand slightly. Yet,
We still debate on what
We can even eat.
Not even the strange webbing
Understands, encased
In warm shadow.

Written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge #154.


How do my thoughts get processed into words?

Limp spires.
A difficult sun pressing hands
Against sullen stone. The structures malform,
But don’t quite collapse.

Or do my words spur thoughts?

A man gazes up
At dim curvatures, buildings
Once needled towards thought.
The man whisks across cobblestone.

How do they interact?

His hands break against white.
Lines drag from themselves.
The spires are gone. Something else
Stretches across window.

Written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge #153.


Let them enter, the eyeless murmurs
Peering in as children had once done.
They’re not really there behind the window:
Faceless reflections, silhouettes without
skin or name, occupied by a memory
Refusing to leave. Let them into this night.
Some may gather by our fire, a dim voice
Grasping within; others will dash about,
Trying to find themselves behind a vase.
And then when sun approaches
Touch, they will slide beneath shadows.
Some will become lost elsewhere,
Others will return, black shapes stretching
Across glass, close to knowing.

Written for Reena’s Exploration #148.