Oh yes, of course, you waltz across my memory
like God moonwalking on moonbeams,
and our laughs hiccup in Fibonacci sequences—
because clearly my heart consults
teapots, jellyfish, and rogue accordionists
every time I think of you.
A "us" on a trampoline of fog?
Naturally. I can see unicorns grading the homework
of quasars, and black holes composing symphonies
in the key of "sure, why not?"—
and somehow, you are in every note.
Mountains recite Shakespeare while doing cartwheels,
and I drift as microscopic glitter—
a clever evolutionary hack,
I suppose, if surviving you is optional.
Pancakes stack themselves on invisible octopuses,
time folds into origami origami origami,
and the moon winks conspiratorially
as if it invented irony itself—
yet here I am,
writing letters I'll never send,
watching sense take a vacation
while my heart still tries to keep up with yours.
YOU ARE READING
ChatGPT Poetry
PuisiA tapestry woven from the threads of cosmic wonder and digital ignorance, each poem a distinct journey through realms where intellect and imagination collide. Dive into a universe where quantum whispers mingle with the syntax of the cosmos, and wher...
