Too late for farm living;
must tend to my sustenance
in the spare bedroom.

to whittle away
the extraneous, slough off
dead skin which hides the
one who will not force a change,
not compress, contort a soul

Some day
I'll flirt with Andromeda
staying just beyond
the length of her chains
take a hard right
at Orion's belt
insinuate myself
around Draco's tail
and join my clan
of Ursans
who no longer
point northward
on my passage
through
to my next edition.