Am I composed of
the fading light
of distant stars.
Swirling dragonfly
galaxies that
try so hard
to stay in motion
that for this feeling
of electric
milky energy, they
will forget they exist.
In cloud minded galaxies
life cannot be.
But here the plump
staggering ladies of the sky
will only dance when
they are full. Their
bellies exploding
from too many silver spoons.