Through naked snows I pass at speed, Not pausing, though the trees I heed. They shake their branches, stretch and push, But onward I must press with need.
The world fled on, its silent ellipse Inscribing great arcs in the empty night. Others pass and take no heed, Theirs a colder and more bitter business.
The Initial Mystery that attends any journey is: how did the traveler reach his starting point in the first place? – Louise Bogan
Merciless, time watches over our abject forms, And steals lovely night with break of day. It tempts with burned images that swim in brief ecstasy and are lost, Our memory a shoddy palimpsest of battling desires and warring ideas. The stacked moments of a brief universe stretch out for us to perceive, And yet, for […]
O! Heaving eyes from Earth that face the stars And shape dim light to hues of Helium fire. With slow ascent, decline: a pale Mars, Whose barren plains perceive no human spire. Of time long past this glass can but reflect; Yet wonder of ancient light shall not decrease. The wordless suns too many to […]
Vega listened to Tau Ceti, And Tau Ceti listened to Cygni. Cygni listened to Procyon, And Procyon listened to Sirius. Sirius listened to Barnard, And Barnard listened to Proxima, Proxima listened to the Sun, And the Sun listened to me. © Phil Corbluth