is rising, which implies it’s spinning faster. Repeated oscillation
s in ever increasing intensity
. Swirling and motion.
Repeat and return and it’s over.
in the hand. Dried gypsum
. In the ghost
of another dream you are beside me. Scorpio
is descending through hazes and shades of this Puerto Rican night
. Blackness so rich that the stars are a dream
of withdrawn and delighted light, left to far-off destinations that we will never reach.
You said you could hear the galaxy
You said you could hear the galaxy in me. Can you hear me now?
Or is the pitch so high at last it’s beyond your understanding
? Me spinning out, spinning far past the place where this all still can hold, and soon it will go. Soon I will move out into the stars and take up my own place, a brightly burning ball of disaster
like all the other stars, alive and golden, set out to explode
in time. The medium for new galaxies, born of the cold matter that is the wake of destruction
The dream life of stars
Listen. Hear it turning faster. And remember what I lost in you, because I can’t. I can’t remember
Even a galaxy
can only withstand so much before it spins out and into forever
. Take this dried and crackling flower and plant it somewhere cold
for the day when I spin out beyond your horizon, to a place where only I can hear its escalating motion in a pitch beyond the places we’ve known. Eighth notes
in place. Plant it somewhere that I can find it in a waking dream
, come to walk again these shallow paths that led me to nowhere
again and again and again.
I can’t remember.
So I will return. Destined to return forever.