strain of stars

if i had ever seen anything
before, it was nothing like
this. the black, flat sheet
of night had lifted and
i saw my place inside the orb
of Everything, the empty sky
concaved, and there
we were, suspended in between
a billion here’s and there’s
by a tiny invisible
thread. or, resting on the
shoulders of an invisible
Atlas, who has not yet
heaved us into the Oblivion,
and so we float about
the grandest spherule space

it was then
i felt small enough
to die and not regret
my own life. every
memory carved into
Atoms, and bound together
with what? i am a Galaxy
teaming with life,
my surfaces are oceans,
and within and without,
time is my ever shrinking
Constant, the wrist watch
worn by my Grandfather,
and given to me, is worthless
anywhere, but here.

so when i have died
let the hum of the Cosmos
be my dirge,
the strain of stars
my threne.

Sunday

Every thing
in Nature is
eventually faced
with the question
of The nature
of things; the startled
reflection of
the Doe, sipping
face down from
the perfect surface
of a crystal lake,

or the way you
stare at yourself
in passing
windows,
as if you were
watching some stranger,

misty morn,
invisible chirps
weave chords-

black to gray
to green;
and no eyes
were ever so
blessed to
see, the
awakening
of all things.

the world undulates
in intangible cold,
lost forever tethered
by cords of Darkness,

still I pause
at the beginning
of time; Sunday
has crept up on
me again.

the speedless welkin

i am everyday
here in imagination
auspiciously flowering,
forever falling through
some larger star-dotted orb.
the speedless Welkin
opens up before
my breadth; we are
solace and calm seas.
we are evergreens,
roots tangled into
the possibility of
one tree, on one
plot of solid, anointed
Earth. worms below,
birds above, flying
like fish to angels.

she is supernova

starlight sleep-
this is what i know of her love,
beaming coruscations erupting
forthwith. without delay.

she is
supernovas. she is
fascinations and
things frilly and
iridescence. she is
collapsing, into my arms.

see a new constellation has
formed and i have
a new North.

i, man

i like being a man

this world and everything
on it is mine
for the taking

dominion given me
by its Creator

i am fashioned by
Earth and God

mud and Breath.

woman was made
of man and God

bone and Breath.

i gave of my life
for hers in Holy Days.

but I am a taker by Nature
an ape by comparison
a fool in Spirit
and blind to space
of whose dust i am hewn

a patchwork quilt
of interplanetary incest.

a halfwit before her
a cretin, an addlepate, lost.
there is indeed a God
and i am salt crystals
at His table. mined from
oceans of Everything.

deascension

there are falts
in the downbeat
in the boot stomp;
paycheck to paycheck
dosido around we go
the sun and moon
and music and clocks
and seasons and wheels
whether you travel
through time or
space you exist
in a cycle that
always returns
to where its been
before.

crooked science

we are hazy
and forgettful
creatures. we are
cycles of habit
spinning in rondures;
repeating every
mistake, revolving
on tilted axis
each perspective
of this Cosmos,
ever so slightly
skewed.

love and the afterthought

when have you found Love?
its elusive shadow
will play games with your
heart, for ages and ages.

when have you found Love?
when there is pain.
Unless I am resting in
the arms of my Love, until
I am lying against her
bosom, I cannot find comfort.

Love is gravity. Everything
in our Space wants to hurl
itself into the fire doom
of the sun. every rock, planet,
soul, all that we see, were
it not for some unseen force, would
toss itself into certain
death with joy, and abandon.

yet, we remain, circling
and longing. gravity is pain.
love is pain. and longing
is the unseen sorrow, that
suspends so many orbits in
perfect tune, with those
around – bound hopelessly
by the same gravity, and Love.

travellers

i can feel blood
rush behind my eyes-
hot with life

our Home hurls
itself on axis
around the distant sun.

its demons drive us
unseen through the
black night of space.

there are none to
aid in this cause.
as the milky way

moves over a million
miles an hour, you will
certainly never

be in the same place again.
you will never really know
just how far you have come.

love gravity

for space moments
she turns gravity
in on itself
and pulls at
me, from every-
where, all at
once. as if the
center of all
things was in
me and from
that pinpoint all
of eternity moved
outwards, into
nothing, holding
onto me by
string, tugging
from every point
in that great Cosmos.

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.