I Have Been to Stranger Lands

By | 31 October 2021

In pictures:
the pockmarked plane

a landing to stand on,

cloud drapes and many moons
beneath me.

I wish I was made of something lighter,
so that I could float.

My dreams recall in phases:

in one, I was vagabond and heading
for Neptune.

I had few possessions.

In a supernova,

the Big Dipper broke.

Lying down once on a plateau,

spacetime swirling and stellar remnants

pulling in a collapse,

I arched my back
drinking in the light-years,
face tilted up,

my body a thin graft,

Rim around a planetary ring, I gather
my moonlets with me,

horizon to distance in orbit,

reconsidering infinity.

In the dive of meridian, I am a

galaxy of want,

nebula pluming

the deep space

If you move along the light in a straight line,

you will reach a point

where nothing suspends

your own gravity.

Giving as an act
of surrender, saying:

I want this yours.

The body is a caldera calling.

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