words

the muse is magnetic,
drawing words to the surface
by her presence or even the glimmer of,
she commands those subatomic scales
with electrodynamic fingertips,
weaving and composing
rules and laws at her smokey whim.

a network of sensory overload,
quick pulses in the current
that bring about a need,
a longing intrinsic to creation itself,
a desire to release
those strobes of wildness, of rhythmic streams
of stanzas, sonnets and songs.

her angular momentum takes over
and the penstroke runs off the page
as if the ink has come alive,
a native element of dark possibility
that is consumed by her will
and has fled its point of origin
for fear of being buried
beneath a series of pages,
gone on in to the world without
to find her and to cultivate
its own defining by way of her energy.

she exists within the vacuum
where all things are formed
and lends to it her cosmic forces,
special relativity
and quantum-mechanical soul
and there it all begins to expand
like a swelling heart,
on and on and out and out
until the seamless black fabric of the void
is stretched beyond its elastic limit
and there is an explosion of sound and fire,
theories, matter and antimatter
as galaxies spiral out and grow arms
and stars breathe the first breath
of their strange and violent lives,
glowing and revealing the outlying regions
where the words dance and live and breed.

-S.C. Martinez