tentacle tangle

There are so many lives I float in and out of. Jellyfish wobble, stings a little.
I really don’t mean it, but any little eddy carries me, and then it’s only an aftermath of some chemical catalyst. My transparency refreshes and exhausts, swings you from despair to joy. Cold waves on a hot day, dig your toes in this mud at your own risk. Little pincers lurk beneath, and the undertow just might be stronger than your breath.

cup

This is a tissue vessel for salt water and liquid rust, pulsing with infinite tiny vibrations and ripples. I can only cup my own blood for a moment, before it abandons me sweetly and filters, through ash and tree roots curled around speckled granite bones, into the ocean again. Hollow me, that I can better hold the hot ether of all these unborn memories.