March 19, 2011

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  The Wonderer

   

  The wonderer takes the ultimate road at night

  When most birds except for whippoorwills and owls are silent

  When the thornbush blooms its crimson shoots

  And blackened roots of fire-falls are moist with salted dews

  Of moonless star-lit seas

   

  He has come from his tunnel of woods

  Onto night-fields replete with explosions of brilliant flowerings

  There is no purpose for this voyage other than the wonderer has reasoned

  He is finally alone in this confetti-strewn galactic smear

  Spread above in its celestial glory

   

  He must not linger long gazing at this "fire which severs day from night"

  As the greatest poet Master Will proclaimed

  Because his journey is drawing to a close and he is bent

  As the saw-grass sparkling with droplets of sea-mist is bent

  His bones and fibers lacerated and detrite

   

  He spies two fireballs slicing through Alpha-Centauri

  And lies down on a saturated ledge to wait out the cosmic shower

  His eyes close till they are pulsing slits timed to his heart

  Those empyrian slashes up there are his epitaph

  Written when this field was a sea of gas

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  • 9:40 am
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