It’s similar to floating aimlessly in outer space I imagine. You’re able to see the vastness of the universe, in all its beauty and in the biblical sense-awesomeness. You’re weightless, unconstrained by the pressures of the world and in this vast formless external presence. Yet you’re also able to see the chaos and impermanence of the universe. For this feeling I like to use the physics definition of chaos: the formless matter supposed to have existed before the creation of the universe. Within that definition you have the dichotomy of chaos and beautiful creation. You’re able to view the ebbs and flows of the universe and life and form in motion.

a poem on being an autistic adult — little yellow waiting room with drop ceilings piss soaked socks with rubber pads underneath toilets caked in shit and blood behind a tiny curtain cover piercing fluorescent lights and a cold metal door, holding an inescapable room behind an unfinished world I met a person named Brianna, a transgender homeless…

(or my foray through the subway system) — What exactly does this rat want from me? I see his hesitancy in approaching the bench. Running, coming to a full stop, and sprinting in the other direction. Maybe he senses some sort of compassion or understanding from me. Maybe he’s having an experience similar to catching someone’s eye in…

five short poems on Zen — The Cliff Earth opens and purifies itself in the sea The void carries air down, detaching it from formations But I stay, letting the world flow through me At the bus stop My thoughts consume me. Low murmuring, the smell of gasoline and everyone plugged in, waiting in private bubbles. …