Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Dust and Smoke
Lessons learned. Lessons learned. On golden streets of rich daddies and poor daughters in late night trysts with shapeless, formless men in the arms of blue smocked minds. Mad mothers blinded by wooden alcohol shaved with ice and yearning love. Yearning for whom? Gum diseased dentist with feckless smile. Novocained nurse in cold shapely form with bun hair tied and knotted in insular needles and hangman's thread. Best not to speak of the refueled sun. Son of what? Son of whom? Son of burnt stars. Sun of our planet. Our life blood. Best not to speak of the moribund sun. Coprenicus calling in the explosive night. Waning star. Shuttering and sputtering like dying nuclear blanks shrinking into a white dwarf, a red dwarf. A billion years, a million hours, a sweeping second with eight minutes of light to the earth and moons. Collapse unto thee,' sun. Collapse unto thee', blacken hole. Draw into your heart and expendable core all that is us. Da Vinci, Bach, Whirling Dervishes in methodical dance of life's waxing hope. Hope to Galileo. Hope to Galileo with ethereal telescope. Roman eyes to witness the birth of fire and heat. Nebula calling, new beginnings in galactic womb, God's creation of atheist's despair. Tell the rich man on golden street the burden of nothing, the poverty of blind wives and poor daughters in moneyed dreams of love and yearning in a bounded universe. Eight minutes of light. Eight minutes to know and love, to extinguish into soft clouds of dust and smoke.