Countdown

Watching an old broadcast
of the Challenger shuttle tragedy
Astronaut parents were in the stands
on January 28, 1986
at Cape Canaveral
when astronaut children
ceased to exist
The craft explodes way above the spectators
But they wouldn’t have known it then
with the naked eye

You can only tell in the YouTube footage

Childhood Whimsy

My fears now are so mundane:
diabetes, glaucoma
maybe a stroke that leaves me paralyzed,
drooling
I look at my finger and wonder,
Is that gout?
But in childhood, the deaths we imagined:
kidnappings, railroad tragedies
that result in amputations,
electrocutions from hydro boxes
that leave your fingers all melted together,
and even tumours seemed kinda
romantic

Namaste, Motherfuckers!

Yeah, my body is a temple—it’s decaying and full of bullshit notions.

My body is a temple—there’s no practical reason for it to exist.

My body is a temple—it’s pretty empty and searching for meaning.

My body is a temple—people visit it out of a sense of obligation.

My body is a temple—it’s a host of little deaths and disappointments.

My body is a temple—even I don’t believe in it.

My body is a temple—it hasn’t been cleaned up in a while.

My body is a temple—it’s taking donations.