Travis Macdonald

from FAQ

When the Ragged Hours Fall at Last so Finally into Place

Here in the moment held, stopped 
short of metaphor—the scene 
perceives itself: unfiltered ancient 

sentiments of form, absence and ignition 
witnessing the augmented organic. A new 
tectonics through which skin and breath is echoed in

its heaving between 
these arch cavities. We are all only
gravity’s captives dressed as guests.
Poised, prayer foot hovering, stuck

inches above the preponderant 
probability of ground and that other
nagging percentage of perception’s
eventual, inevitable

failure—where the channel currents wail
away the air between us
and land. And land.


When Your Second Hand Origin Myth is Worn Through from Overuse

Bishop Ussher’s arithmetic predicted this particular
history began on a Monday: October 
24, 4004 BC. To be exact

is really just to guess with great confidence at. Anything
your personal logic allows for, probability
be damned, is truth. The reason 

no pole is fixed
between Greenland and Siberia is magnets 

make bad maps and earth’s
iron ore core is still working out

its toddler’s wobble. After all these years,
we’re still tracking shadows down from the flash

mob of creation. Gathered in 
dark corners of the universe like dust
bunnies swollen under our mixed skin
cells’ weight, atomic conglomerates continue

their processes of coalition and accretion. Hold on 
tight to oblivion’s handrails. The big bang is about
to go off again like a Pegasus piñata.