70

“Arcturus” is his other name—
I’d rather call him “Star.”
It’s very mean of Science
To go and interfere!

I slew a worm the other day—
A “Savant” passing by
Murmured “Resurgam”—”Centipede”!
“Oh Lord—how frail are we”!

I pull a flower from the woods—
A monster with a glass
Computes the stamens in a breath—
And has her in a “class”!

Whereas I took the Butterfly
Aforetime in my hat—
He sits ***** in “Cabinets”—
The Clover bells forgot.

What once was “Heaven”
Is “Zenith” now—
Where I proposed to go
When Time’s brief masquerade was done
Is mapped and charted too.

What if the poles should frisk about
And stand upon their heads!
I hope I’m ready for “the worst”—
Whatever prank betides!

Perhaps the “Kingdom of Heaven’s” changed—
I hope the “Children” there Won’t be “new fashioned” when I come—
And laugh at me—and stare—

I hope the Father in the skies
Will lift his little girl—
Old fashioned—naught—everything—
Over the stile of “Pearl.”

Arcturus brings the spring back
As surely now as when
He rose on eastern islands
For Grecian girls and men;

The twilight is as clear a blue,
The star as shaken and as bright,
And the same thought he gave to them
He gives to me to-night.

Arcturus rises
He provides guidance in light
Clouds mocks with blindfolds

"Can we look at stars?" She asked.
So we stepped out of our lives
Into the pillars of creation.
The chill was biting but
The light from the most beautiful taurian sky I had ever seen washed upon our gaze and warmed our hearts.
Taurus the bear the hunter and an unknown star brighter than all others
the Queen of the sky herself came to visit this solemn night.
As we stood in the cold for those few fleeting moments
The universe heard the call of her sad heart.
And the stars fell from the heavens
in a show of radiant jubilee unmatched in this life.
When the book of the sky opened itself and shared its wisdom for all to see
it was speaking to us.
To her.
"Everything will be alright."
It said.
Heard loud and clear.

Travelled light of time.
Arcturus risen
over the gentle, waveless ocean.
Its light moving with steady purpose
since the time of her birth.
To shine
on her fresh-kissed lips.

Shine like a star.
The self confidence in you,
makes you the brightest star of all.
Deep down in you there's a fire.
Yes , a burning fire.
A fire that brings joy and energy to the people around you
At the same time,
That fire will burn and hurt those people that you dislike.
You are a star,
A bright star like Arcturus.
That stands out in the crowd,
Makes you different than the rest of the stars.

“The sound that pours from the fingertips awakens clouds of cells far inside the body”
Robert Bly  1926-

You could say that the sound that tips deep cells are waking      
                                                                                                
                                                                                                   heralds with bugles divine revolution

You could say that the sound that echoes from spirals                
                                                                                                
                                                                                                  gossamers emeralds’  scintillant light

You could say that the sound that squishes from mangoes            
                                                                                                
                                                                                                   is luscious and opulent tripping with pearls
          
You could say that the sound that slumbers in harp strings          
                                                                                            
                                                                                                   howls round the polar bear’s tumaceous couch  

You could say that  the sound that tremors  from tadpoles        
                                                                                                
                                                                                                   triggers eruptions of undersea mountains

You could say that the sound that sits on the windowsill              
                                                                                              
                                                                                                   on Arcturus flickers as icicle fire
      
      You could say that the sound that bounces off drumskins            
                                                                                                    
                                                                                                          loosens the shackles of acuate cacti

You could say that the sound that shivers off rainbows                
                                                                                              
                                                                                                   silkens red poppies at sunstrike unpacking

You could say that the sound that rumbles round moonrocks        
                                                                                              
                                                                                                    passes on purple to stillness of shadows

You could say that the sound that echoes cicadas                      
                                                                                              
                                                                                                    crackles through canyons of memory rising

You could say that the sound that gallops through nightmares
                                                                                            
                                                                                                    shrinks in the face of the falcons glissade

You could say that the sound that is diatomaceous

                                                                                                     tangles up synapses  sparking at random

You could say that the sound of deep cells awakening                      
                                                                                        &n

I want to jump off the earth and into space
As vast visions of knowledge graze my face
Laplace's demon I wish to be
But that hypothetical is not me
To witness planets and stars humans never see
Floating in space will set me free
Milky Way, Andromeda, perhaps a Magellanic cloud
Vega, Rigel, and Altair are my shroud
Antares and Arcturus burning up high
Adara and Bellatrix in my night sky
Life like Eridanus, the end is Achernar
So beautiful up close, and from afar
Horologium watching my every move
To Hydrus and Leo, my courage I must prove
Sun Ra taught me that "Space Is The Place"
When I journey forth, Ill shall adventure with grace

Piloting a rocket propelled spermatazoon
straight into the magma core of Arcturus!
And all the while our cute society
is humming a slithery little hymn
"Dip your toes and smile along
clap your hands and follow me home."
Alas my hands are golden waves
and bridge the space
where the monolith wades
Redemption plays
the poison harp
encouraging those forgotten
to never give up
the strings are dripping
and licking the ground
where flowers grow
the land is sound
there is someone at the door
always someone at the door

if I am the frying pan then you are the fire
in a way you’ve always been my gateway drug
[oh her]
and I’ve always been their gateway to you (we have never
really been that similar) if I am the street lights then
you are the stars (you have always made that one
pretty clear)
I am covered in your footprints
your hair kind of looks like mine
spit on my face and we’ll see if I start to look more like you
[oh it’s you]
we were born in hospitals and since then my infant skin
has felt like plastic in your hands
(I’ll sit down in the dirt to see if I can blend in
with what you say you really love) smile and maybe
I’ll remember
what I really love about the grass growing through the sidewalk
(I remember once you told me you would love me
if I could show you where the sidewalk ends)
if I am the bridge then you are the untamed river
I’m sorry if I couldn’t see below my feet but you never bothered
to look up either
you have always been my gunpowder and I
have always been your bastille (whether you are rogue or royalty
has yet to be determined) you have always said
that I was hollow and I held matches in my teeth hoping
it would prove me volatile
[always you two]
I used to think our bones were the same metal but you’d
be the first to tell me yours was forged in a hotter fire
I think
mine will be harder to break (and we will both be melting
for years) if I am holding their hands then
you are bleeding beneath their feet if I stand alone
then you are standing on their shoulders
(I remember you like charcoal on a cave wall
like a name carved in tree bark
there are sets of your fingerprints next to mine all down
the highway
hold my hand against the dirt and we’ll see
if the heat of battle in the blood red riverbank will be enough
to burn this skin from our bones) we are not friends and
we are never going to be strangers (and more than anything
I am sorry for that)
if I am midnight then you are three am
if I am the sun then you are (not the moon)
arcturus
in a way I’ve always been your gateway
in a way you’ve always been my coup de foudre
[oh this again]
in a way your poetry was always my first love

Time passes. It is never ending, but it stops and it goes. Everyone is waiting for something; but not so much waiting as looking. Everyone is looking for something. I have been looking for many things, countless things. Innumerable things:
Bee, who doesn't know it yet. She is on his way to me, but she cannot comprehend it, no, not yet. She is not yet here. She is in another place, waiting to be born. She does not exist. But he sees me, and I see him. He is here, with me, eternally.
Truth, which evades me at every possible chance. He comes to visit me at times, in little bubbles, which only last a few seconds, then are gone faster than they came. She does not visit others, not so much; not anymore.
Life, which many would say that I've found, that I am living, that I am life, that life is me. But. No. I am not life and life is not me. I have not lived, not fully, not the way they want me to. And what with this I am happy as can be.
Home, what is nowhere, what doesn't exist anymore. My home has been long dead. My home is gone, forever. Home was somewhere very, very, very far away. Much farther than most can imagine right now. My home was Lyra, Arcturus. Arcturus was my home, and now it is gone. My home is gone. But, hark!: my home still exists, it has all-ways. And so, my home is with him.
As many cannot see, we are all here, and we never can't be.