Of Mind and Matter

Three poems by Sam Woods

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

The Language of Stars

Once you start learning the names
of constellations, you will never
see the night sky the same way again.
You will constantly be
chasing the
Little Dipper. Orion. Sirius.

Sometimes feelings
are like that too. Once
you know they exist, you
will spend the rest of your life
chasing them.
Vellichor. Chrysalism. Love.

I don't know much about
astrology—and the nights aren't clear
enough to see the stars.
I've spent a lifetime trying to name the
light I'm chasing.
Occhiolism. Silience. Sonder.

Atoms Are Mostly Just Empty Space

—so we never really touch.

The space between is filled
with electric and magnetic forces,

repelling each other.
When we think we touch,

what we are really feeling is repulsion.
Two things can't occupy the same space

at the same time. So, they push.
Don't you understand?

Pushing you away is just chemistry.
If I could, I would spread my atoms

to make room for your atoms.
I want to break the laws of physics with you.

To always exist in a vacuum together.
If I can teach my part(icle)s to slow down

I can be the first thing you ever touch.
There is no science to hold this universe together.

There is only theory here. Aren't you scared
our atoms could collapse at any second?

Aren’t you terrified our bonds are breaking?

I Like Giants.

When I saw the ocean
I had the urge to scream,
but instead I sang. I sang
about giants, and feeling small,
and wishing I was dead.
I harmonized with the mountains and 
wished being sad was always this easy.
That night when I drank
warm beer in my hotel room
along, I cried and I felt proud.

The bus took so long, and
we didn't speak the same language.
You were kind and young and
I was never either of those things.
Your eyes surprised me; and
my drinking surprised you.
We're both a story the other will tell sometimes.
"That crazy girl in the mountains.
She talked of death and
poetry. The sun made her cry and
the ocean made her sing."

Faces I will never see again
smiled and waved goodbye. I left them
with disease and blurry photographs.
All I could think about
was catching my flight home.

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Sam is a full time janitor, perpetual student, lifelong writer and avid reader. Currently enrolled in English Literature and Pop Culture at Toronto Metropolitan University. Her work has been featured in Willawaw Journal, Wunderlit Magazine and Book of Matches, with future publications coming this year.