gravity

and the world
continues to spin.

intense feelings
dull, get weaker.

the solitude was
palatable in the
rooms - the way
he walked thru
them.

and time is a funny
concept maybe.
unrelenting
moments
slipping
forward.

marooned
on the moon
in june, the hero,
or hapless space-
poet, ponders with
perplexing propensity
continuing sending
messages to the
universe at large
and calling it
poetry.

Sometimes,
occasionally,
I feel gravity
pulling me
down more
than normal.

As if a great force,
with the whole uni-
verse behind it is at
one time pushing on
my mind and the verse
-s produced during those
times are usually compact,
dense as stars and as far
away too.