The planets are elusive
to such things as I.
Magnanimous majesties
Named after deities,
How could they have time for me?
Gliding all over the place, draped within space
It's something colossal-so far from mundane
But even that-another microscopic phenomenon
So tell your skyscrapers "at ease!"
and give Atlas a break
Even earthquakes are miniscule
when you really want to think about it.
There's a balance,
a kind of galactic hoola-hooping
measure, slow, all timed-out
on a backdrop of impenetrable dark
which of course showcases
the myriad spectrum
that astronauts dream of.
Oranges on fire and
turquoises impossibly cold.
Constellations run rampant
and symbols of Galileo's past use their Ursa voices
to compete with those of Leo ,
deafening the pin pricked canvas with a mute roar
that Sagittarius couldn't even contain.
Smaller than space debris,
I lay here
hard beige beneath sleepy-warm elbows.
It's decidedly cool,
the breeze traipses over my skin
but my mind-
that's with the stars.