Wandering through eighty six hundred lights
strung from the ceiling, floating in the room
like the reaching fronds of a kelp forest,
we swim through the undulating display,
holding our breath as the long tendrils sway,
blinking in bioluminescent code,
illuminating the neural highway,
sparking a new language of wonder that
resonates in the cold of concrete space.
In the next room, a galaxy strung up
becomes an immigrant face at distance,
but only at a certain distance, seen
from a specific vantage point, well marked.
Stand here if you would behold my visage;
from every other point of view, I am
Far beyond the realm of mylar’s crinkled
breath, a bladder filled with air bulges up:
an immobile golden snail, unshelled and
gazing at a rainbow begging to be
In a long movie, men push trash around
with precision brooms, designed to tell time,
while kids hop around, provoking color
that pumps through a projector to the wall.
Beside a room of singing faces, still
the eyes of the immigrant keep staring.
Common doo-wop chords keyed out note by note
fill the space with a wonder of music.
Volunteers line up for a single tone
while upstairs lights flash, and a video
of illusions prepares to have the last
This blank verse poem is part of my June challenge, writing in poetic forms. Thank you for reading! (PS Wonderspaces is a great experience!)