Saturday, January 16, 2010

Playing with Prose Poetry #1

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Tiny Universe

A star exploded in a tiny universe sending an immense expanding sphere of light outward. On a tiny planet at the farthest reaches at the edge of nothing, an old man stood in his garden next to his tomato plants. He had been kneeling to turn some manure into the dirt with a trowel, but stood up to stretch and rest. He felt the wave of light, the initial intensity of which had been multiply reduced by the vast distances it had traveled in the tiny universe. Still, it was terribly hot. The hot wave washed over him. His face flushed and he felt dizzy. His face flushed redder yet as something burst like an infinitely small star in his brain, discharging a tumbler of energy from his body. the old man fell to his knees then toppled forward. By the time his face hit the soft dirt of his cultivation he was dead.
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2 comments:

  1. Interesting comparison you have made here. You have a way with words. I enjoyed all your other short poems, too.Silvia

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  2. When I read your poetry, I feel the inter-connectedness of everything, in this particular poem how a stroke not only resembles a star bursting in a galaxy, but IS a star bursting in the galaxy of this man's brain, a reflection on the cellular level of what happens on the galactic level of existence.

    Karen

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