Hear them sing, the comets
Hung from gravity
Flung among the trees delicately
Reaching for you and me
A congenital rotation of Time
Topographic damage from the rhyme
Of fingered activity, blame and climb
The grist of Humanity; disease, ragtime
We’ll meet again as the Boatman’s guests
Our clothes wet from the ocean’s crest
The shadows indicating our trip west
From this world my heart I wrest
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
Hear them sing, the comets
Hung from gravity
Flung among the trees delicately
Reaching for you and me
A congenital rotation of Time
Topographic damage from the rhyme
Of fingered activity, blame and climb
The grist of Humanity; disease, ragtime
We’ll meet again as the Boatman’s guests
Our clothes wet from the ocean’s crest
The shadows indicating our trip west
From this world my heart I wrest
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