Photo(n)sensitive
Wave, particle, particles moving in or
perhaps along shifting waves:
whichever belief you share, it is held that
there are no hooks inherent in light, nothing
sticky. It is, in other long words, gripless.
This only shows that all sorts of educated
someones need to drag themselves out of
laboratories and libraries, lift eyes from
pages and screens,
stand at the eternal internal intersection of
should
and
but then again
and see which insistent tug carries the night:
full moon on four wide-open lanes;
a winking neon promise of
maybe;
a lamp lit in hope of faith, beside a
half-filled bed.
Steve Brisendine lives, works and remains unbeaten against The New York Times crossword in Mission, KS. He is the author of four collections of poetry, most recently full of old books and silence (Alien Buddha Press, 2024). His work has appeared in Modern Haiku, I-70 Review, Flint Hills Review and other publications and compilations. He has no degrees, one tattoo and a deep and unironic fondness for strip-mall Chinese restaurants.
