... addiction ..., ... anger ..., ... Applachia ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... death ..., ... experimental ..., ... ghosts ..., ... girl ..., ... God ..., ... heartsick ..., ... home ..., ... life ..., ... love ..., ... moon ..., ... night ..., ... pain ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... summer ..., ... the South ..., ... the sun ..., ... time ...

comet ison

the year fades tiresome
like a pendulum that sweeps
circular patterns
in someone’s Zen sand box

days creep shorter, now
slowly, and longer they’ll
linger as our

tautly stretched
shadows inch
back to their
summer lengths

life has completed another
orbit around whatever and
we will be slung, once
again, by the sun into
outer darkness

and somewhere, millions and billions
of miles away, a disturbance has
heaved a frozen rock towards us

and it hurdles its way sun-ward,
like us, unaware and unable
to deviate from it’s chosen path

a comet rises in the east
“brighter than the moon,” they say

perhaps, as Earth thaws us,
our tails will also
illuminate the skies with
something different than before.

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2 thoughts on “comet ison

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