Saturday, June 23, 2007
At Least, One Zenith
Southeastern summer
Star chart took us miles away.
Unlit road brought us back
To sleep the sleep of myths.
In our dreams we spoke
to the after-image.
O, brightest star,
O, distant bug of lightning,
You’re a dying pinprick,
Poised to explode
First Then
And then Now.
You were in all of our dreams
That night.
You swallowed us
Like a drop of fuel
On your colorless voyage
To nowhere.
You became your own constellation.
The end of the light,
The beginning.
