These four poems offer a glimpse into the layered voice and shifting metaphors of

This Is Not About Poems.

This Is Not About Ladybirds

Tiny creature, so bold,
flying this winter,
alighting as the moon
shines into this room.

I am awake—no mistake.
You are no bothersome fly.
Oh, lucky beetle, welcome!
Share my pillow tonight.

Are we lying comfortably?
Then you may begin.
Lady of seven joys and sorrows,
tell me your true stories.

This Is Not About Clocks

There are hands and fingers that point,
a voice that counts—
but no rounds of sixty, twelve, or twenty-four,
no tick, no tock.

Faces glow
in the hush of night.
Faces fade
in the glare of day.

Despite what Mind says,
we can choose—
to follow fingers that point
beyond what we can measure.

Because in the end,
nothing else truly counts.

This Is Not About Miracles

They say it rains fish in Africa—
and sometimes,
tiny killifish ride
on the backs of elephants

Not by choice,
but by mud and chance,
their eggs clinging on
to wrinkled memory,
carried across thirst-cracked earth
toward the promise of water

Not all of them make it.
But some slip off—
into new pools,
where the story begins again.

This Is Not About Star Trek

Today I watched
Star Trek: Discovery
from a half-beamed place—
barely visible,
barely outlined,
barely there.

Yet I know
I am made of zillions of particles.
I know,
just like here in the movie theatre,
a seat has been reserved just for me.

And then, while watching,
I saw myself beam through—

stepping out of the movie
into full technicolour.

If one of these poems calls to you—
here’s where you can find the whole conversation and order your copy