fragmented space

out here in the deep
darkness of space as
i hurtle toward the edge
of the known universe (at
this time) and this time, i'm
aware that air is love, air
is life, and where there's
absence of air, like love,
the heart begins to fill
with despair and the
time to repair such
a snare if you get
caught is beyond
measure...

of oceans like
the emptiness
of space at least
filled with water and
not anti-matter, the
very same force that
fills the gaps and causes
the universe to expand, ever
faster.

the speed of light is too slow
for this mission. the speed of
thought operates on the nuances
of time, which can be learned if you're
around long enough, or can bend and shape
time enough to see...

merrily skipping from star
cluster to star cluster and
all the hope i can muster
goes into the coin-operated
message machine to call
back to my home galaxy,
my ball of gas expending
energy even as i am pro-
pelled away from the source
of my birth...

mirth and joy from saved up
memories not shared - those
silent moments alone when the
world (this existence) makes per-
fect sense...

and since it's a fact that matter is
more than what we just see, it's
meant to be traveled through,
to be explored and seen...
even if that means a
poet or two must
seek reclusive
lifestyles to
compensate
for the overly
active imaginatory-
gland...

glad of it,
gone from it,
tiny moments
as molecules
build us as
who we are
and the course
i see out here in
the stars, amongst
the dust from which
we sprung up, that
it all fits and i'm
content...

table of
contents
not included,
but start from
the index and
make your way
backwards, hotly
hopping from one
galaxy to the next,
immersed in the
immensity of the
nothing in between...

the sheets of paper i leave
on barren worlds may
evaporate or perhaps
be frozen to be found
by a wayward traveler
many cycles hence...

a few more cents
shuffled into the
apparatus that
connects me
to the life of
earth and
the milky
way gal-
axy and
as i am
hurtling,
hardly
hurting,
i ponder
the path,
the plan,
holistic
hovering
over the
concept
of time
stretched,
not so etched
into the landscape
if you speed it up and
watch the world all at once -
it appears to be melting,
albeit slowly.

nevertheless,
neverthemore.
shutter the windows
batten the doors
better than floors
fallen through.