Riding down this shifting line,
Windows low and ages whirring,
I stole a glimpse in the infinite rearview.
Contrary to lore, I was not transformed
Into a pillar of salt, nor did my mind implode
From the pressures of reflection.
Instead, I was reminded of what it means
To remember—to rejoin the fragments
Of myself, lost to the breeze or tossed
Like litter left for the scheming tempest,
Patient in her plans for the future
Of every morsel left in her possession.
The Cathartic Nature of Black Holes
Show me what it is
To be lost in the singularities
Of time and space;
Aimlessly drifting in a void
Of inverted matter—
O, the things I’d be willing to give
To gain the privilege
Of traversing such seas:
The list would edge on endlessness,
Threatening to go on for a time
Beyond what my mortal frame would allow.
Eli T. Mond is the pen name of David Davis, a writer, artist, and mystic from Detroit, MI. He is the Founding Editor of ‘The Ibis Head Review,’ a quarterly poetry publication, and has had work published in various journals, including OTHER., Lyceum, and Young Ravens Literary Review. In the Fall of 2017, he self-published his debut chapbook of mystical poetry titled ‘When Sight Was But A Sightless Thing.’ He can be found online at www.elitmond.com and on Twitter @elitmond.