JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

curled inside the ordinary

lies a thumb print, a crab nebula,

a baby hedgehog with its paw

stuck in a pool of sky

 

it wasn’t there last night when

we opened that jug of calculus

poured ourselves an axiom

opened consciousness’ grating

just a crack to find

 

a riddle with a vintage gleam

fermenting over centuries

hidden under dusty suppositions

an alchemy we sipped in awe

 

perhaps we should have let

it be, waited to see what happens

next but curiosity aroused we

sipped and watched and watched

 

and sipped and as our theories

grew we wondered maybe it

might grow into a happy ending

or sadly into yet another

self fulfilling hangover