The terror of thoughts of becoming
are pallatives for the knowledge of being

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Reincarnations of the Taj

The Taj Mahal is bigger than I thought.
Supple milk-white domes in symmetry make
a great photo, but not the whole
truth. Like the reincarnation of Hinduism,
the concept of Born Again Christians or
calling tomorrow by a name other than today,
Shah Jehan knew—build a monument to life over death,
flank it with religion,
a reflecting pool or two,
and your devotion will spring eternal in the poems and pictures
people bring home to show
they saw love once.

Someone told me the Taj Mahal is sinking
More and more, they’re considering a move:
Dismantle and rebuild on earth that will still hold in 1,000 years.
Tear apart eternity and recreate it someplace safe.

I have no marble, no expendable laborers,
so my testament to the infinite
is waking with love in sunlight,
carrying it through my days like prayer beads,
reincarnating from a new water every moment and finding
tomorrow is another way to say hope

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The Recent Thoughts of Someone Who Says She Doesn’t Want Babies

I would teach my children that they should not refer to each other as “brother” and “sister,” unless they refer to all others in the same manner.  Just because they come from the same two humans, does not make them any more–or any less–connected to each other than to any other life form.  I would call them by their names when referring to them in front of others or in conversation.  They would question pronouns.

But I’d only ever want a son.  That’s it, one son whom I would adore and he would be a total mama’s boy and I would teach him to love himself as much as he loves others.  He would have a quirky wife who teaches crafting classes at a local community center and speaks Khmer.

I would teach my son the constellations so that every night he would know a dream.

And sometimes, when tying shoe laces, I would imagine him grown and gasp.

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with eyes like O’s in the back of my back


Omega (the last letter of the Greek alphabet) is often used to denote the last, the end, or the ultimate limit of a set, in contrast to alpha, the first letter of the Greek alphabet.

The density parameter, Ω, is defined as the ratio of the actual (or observed) density ρ to the critical density ρc of the Friedmann universe. The relation between the actual density and the critical density determines the overall geometry of the universe. In earlier models, which did not include a cosmological constant term, critical density was regarded also as the watershed between an expanding and a contracting Universe.

In probability theory, the sample space or universal sample space, often denoted S, Ω, or U (for “universe”), of an experiment or random trial is the set of all possible outcomes. For example, if the experiment is tossing a coin, the sample space is the set {head, tail}. For tossing two coins, the sample space is {(head,head), (head,tail), (tail,head), (tail,tail)}. For tossing a single six-sided die, the sample space is {1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6}.[1] For some kinds of experiments, there may be two or more plausible sample spaces available. For example, when drawing a card from a standard deck of 52 playing cards, one possibility for the sample space could be the rank (Ace through King), while another could be the suit (clubs, diamonds, hearts, or spades). A complete description of outcomes, however, would specify both the denomination and the suit, and a sample space describing each individual card can be constructed as the Cartesian product of the two sample spaces noted above.

Oxygen-18 (18O) is a natural, stable isotope of oxygen and one of the environmental isotopes.

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jazz hands

we’re more bacterial than material
flesh and bone
daddy ain’t riffin off no
joke jazz
give razz
berries to the Pope when he feels hungry
tickle the Trinity tummy
give out free passes to another afterhours
life parade

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I don’t get to leave ’cause you left first

I’ll make it easy peasy, easy peasy, easy peasy

to stop.

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What the Fuck is Going On Here, or: How I Learned that the Universe is a Manipulative Mindbending Genius Villian

Within the past two weeks, I have:

–Witnessed four violent acts, all involving police response. I saw a car get T-boned. Then a girl smashing bottles in the street. I was within 100 feet of a drive-by shooting. Yesterday, I saw a biker get doored. Hard. I guess it’s better that the police showed up every time than no times.

–Been attracted to three men. All of whom have been named Ben. I have Ben attracted.

–Heard one of my best friends is getting engaged and seen a table full of eight new mothers, all with their newborns. Both of these things are incarnations of my deepest fears.

Well, guess I’m the star of Final Destination 5: Back to the Womb.

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missing strangers afterhours

does anyone forsake
the family that raised them
or him, raised her
to be a woman
a man
a human
and pretend that she misses
or he misses
and she doesn’t even know
but the gape in her chest breathes out sparks
that light the missing on fire
they will show up one day,
all char and bones
and it will be easy for her to say
I never loved the broken

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I’d like nothi…

I’d like nothing more than
Fern Gully on Netflix and popcorn politics
shaggy tooth tigers and demon bath licks
tread disease
in tropical weather
and all the mustard you can muster together

—Pier One Poetry, Summer 2012

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