Thoughts, ideas, inclinations given to gravity
like all other heavenly bodies,
their declinations rendered by the shift of Alpha Centauri
or 666 Desdemona or the sudden texture of a moment whipped with scenery
like scrubbrush or unintended asides
there is no place for a soul to hide,
                                             not on any plane

Mathematically,
Our souls ≠ the stars (that drew them)
They cannot be considered
Functions, Sin
In the same Proof
As ORBIT And Collision

The Cartesian coordinates of a sisters’ picture
by a beachfront restaurant chalkboard menu
the refracted sunlight a cosign of the attraction between comets and stars
The bar top is wet from margaritas and laughter.  The camera setting is .63R
The poetry of Time, un-rhyming minutes; words heavy with breath
Ellipse the gravitational pull of death

The shame is that the dead hang on to us
Their fingers the streams of unstrung
Thoughts between our salvo breaths
In The shade of lavender death becomes

I wish For a universe without gravity
To wrinkle the sunlight before it finds me
The wrest of the seconds only sung
No quiver of a noose memory sprung


Sent from my iPad

WHIM

The Perseus Cluster declination
650,000 light years; 54 billion degrees
Her day is ladled in breaths
Sawdust of stars encircling her feet

The sun in Minor A; a wonderful remark
(For manners lie undisturbed in the dark)
A need for a poem to define Celestry
Her heart is lost to gravity

Kick along
Soul wrenched; set, test;
Unfurl the ocean’s breast
Undulating mother rhymes
Dispersing horseshoe ***** in Time
Sticks figure in the sand
Underwater forests with foreign bands
Of kelp and chemical sisters
Twisted into *****, blisters
Form along my feet, the cool of the breeze
Whetted with salt and seagulls
                       Screaming with heat
Tease us with this tempest postcard
Cartoonish starfish, loggerheads
The genius of Mother Nature
Ripping herself to shreds