Laptop resting
on coffee shop tabletop
circled by black cats
following uncommon cracks.
Customers’ eyes passing
under leaning ladder,
heads and hearts awake.
Misplaced metaphors
blowing between
sidewalk cracks,
through text and tome,
clicks and likes,
order turned
to chaotic randomness.
Numbers are simply digits
written in tercets—
but tears and fears
don’t always form
a following.
Rain, snow, sun
blowing between
blossoms and breeze,
a number on my hotel key
I privately spy
with logic half asleep.
Making the Mashup
Welcome to Mashup Monday, where I take five poems I’ve written and remix them into something entirely new.
This week’s poem explores superstition vs logic, but the real magic is in the process. If you’ve ever seen Everything is a Remix, you know that originality is often about rearranging what already exists. That’s what this series is about—transforming familiar lines into something freshly unfamiliar.
It’s also a nod to the tradition of found poetry, where fragments of text are repurposed to reveal unexpected patterns, rhythms, and meanings. Some lines stay intact; others shift subtly in context—but everything you read here originated from earlier poems I’ve posted.
🎲 You Pick, I Remix
Want to play along? Scroll through my poetry archive and pick five random poems. Drop the titles in the comments, and I’ll use them to build next week’s Mashup Monday. No theme. No rules. Just poetry, remixed.
