Matt Mullins
3 poems
**
Laws of Physics
Heisenberg and Heidegger, Murphy and Newton, it's not the rule, but it's not the exception,
that walking in the middle of the night with no lights on, barefoot across the gravel,
carrying a violin case like a serving tray with a change of clothes
piled up to the chin on top of it, you will miscount the back steps and
tip everything onto the ground. That is what happens when you try to
balance equations with Boron and Manganese on one side, and copper, uranium,
and iron on the other side. Just multiply, then divide.
**
Spelunking
On the floor, piles
of sweat-stained t-shirts
take on a different form. They
don't look the same
as they did when they
were wearing their guts.
Instead, they look like
monuments to the hallway
where joining doors hide
a side by side washer
and dryer. The dog ducks
between them, chasing a toy.
**
Don't Worry
Be a shroud of black linen
................sackcloth
over my eyes. Two billion
pixels breaking...down into
one...point...five...billion
.......then...............one
hundred..............million
as the shroud
..........breaks down
...and cuts my knife...out
with your heart.
**
return to Sawbuck 1.6
**
Matt Mullins is originally from Louisville, Kentucky, but currently lives and writes in Greensboro, North Carolina. He attends the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, and lives with his wife Jenny and their dog Broch. You can find his recent work in Asheville Poetry Review and RealPoetik.
**
Laws of Physics
Heisenberg and Heidegger, Murphy and Newton, it's not the rule, but it's not the exception,
that walking in the middle of the night with no lights on, barefoot across the gravel,
carrying a violin case like a serving tray with a change of clothes
piled up to the chin on top of it, you will miscount the back steps and
tip everything onto the ground. That is what happens when you try to
balance equations with Boron and Manganese on one side, and copper, uranium,
and iron on the other side. Just multiply, then divide.
**
Spelunking
On the floor, piles
of sweat-stained t-shirts
take on a different form. They
don't look the same
as they did when they
were wearing their guts.
Instead, they look like
monuments to the hallway
where joining doors hide
a side by side washer
and dryer. The dog ducks
between them, chasing a toy.
**
Don't Worry
Be a shroud of black linen
................sackcloth
over my eyes. Two billion
pixels breaking...down into
one...point...five...billion
.......then...............one
hundred..............million
as the shroud
..........breaks down
...and cuts my knife...out
with your heart.
**
return to Sawbuck 1.6
**
Matt Mullins is originally from Louisville, Kentucky, but currently lives and writes in Greensboro, North Carolina. He attends the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, and lives with his wife Jenny and their dog Broch. You can find his recent work in Asheville Poetry Review and RealPoetik.
