Pet sitter from Saturn
Notices the pattern
Of floating rocks
Round kitty socks
And counts them as they go-

In twilight’s hush the sitter comes
With gentle hands, she greets the hum
Of furry hearts, once bright and bold,
Now singing softly stories told.

Interstellar, deep, where memories cling,
She feels the pulse of everything.
A wagging tail, a purring sigh,
The warmth of love as moments fly.

But time, that thief, it creeps and steals.
Now all that’s left are tender feels.
The blankets kneaded and graveyard heeded
And the sitter is left defeated
In the ash of the life she now chided.

When I get to Saturn,
Feet as sure as stars,

I’ll cry out in a voice,
Not a blemish or a scar,

“I’ll do it right this time”
No mistakes or misspelt words.

I won’t forget my backpack,
Cut my sandwiches in thirds.

I won't hurt anyone like I did in the last place,
This orbital acquittal for my crime.

I’ll love the right people, in the way they deserve.
And I’ll hold them for the right amount of time.

See, Earth is a write-off for me
I just did it all wrong

I tried until I bled and shook
This desert’s where I belong

I’ll wear this ring like a holy chaplet
My sins ice, dust, and rock

My memories sullied yellow
I leave them past the airlock

My mistakes can't reach to Saturn,
Though their fingers are thick and strong

I can’t break anyone from here,
My arms just aren’t that long.

There are no decisions here to fail,
No stanzas left to rhyme.  

Just me and all these moons saying,
“She’ll do it right this time.”

We never had it all.
But we had an open sky full of stars.
The edge of the universe didnt seem that far.
Riding saturns rings all the way.
Passing the man in the moon with a smile and a wave.
Felt like cloud 9 only higher.
Astroids setting the night sky on fire.
Escaping reality stuck in a dream.
Lasting forever or so it seemed. Until
Out of nowhere tragedy struck.
An unseen darkness. With such a force of bad luck.
A black hole pulled us in.
A beautiful life never to be seen again.

the fan on the lowest setting
still disturbs the decade of dust
enveloping the books that formed
my adolescence;
the disorganized organisms and
******* that have dissolved
in these sheets and these short days
haunt my dreams;

how do i sleep,
knowing that the past future present
perpetuate the block universe of
betrayal and boredom and
baby cries, my mother's eyes,
the abdication of adulthood
and absolution in the absence
of harrowing hope.

i broke my own heart
three states over and now
working and waiting for the
answer to be revealed;
my teenage self says that
sadness is my truest form,
but my soul knows there is more

early retirement                                           2.11.22 Mercury/Pluto conjunction

I’ve been cracking jokes lately,
when in the company of others.
When there was an opening in the conversation
I would insert a comment;
I would joke about my life in early retirement.
I would joke and say that I am retired.
It's obviously funny because I’m only 35;
fairly early in my second Saturn returns.

Over the last 18 months I’ve made modest acquisitions
fit for a retiree;
house slippers, a few extra lines in my face and
even a piccolo pipe with dark cherry Cavendish tobacco.  
They all fit rather nicely,
(according to my eyes)
when worn with my gray cardigan with the red whip stitch
suring up the right pocket;
the same cardigan I wore the night of the accident and the
morning of the ward.
That was an equinox to remember.

Maybe it's in poor taste to joke about early retirement.
Perhaps that it isn’t very funny to go on about,
or maybe it was only funny to me.
It hadn’t quite occurred to me until now that
it may be kind of awkward for a grown man to crack
funnies about his lack of income or industriousness.
I suppose I just gave myself a pass.
Because I figured everyone already knows I’m
a little unhinged-
a little ungrounded-
certainly a bit touched…
and that “he just needs time to heal because he is
an activated Light Worker and the benefits reaped
by his inner struggle to anchor the
Light upon the Earth plane is in everyone’s best interest,
and that it takes an untold exertion of Will to exact such an incarnation,
and that it takes more than a few several months for the
risen Kundalini to come to maturation.
Quick, can someone please get me a tourmaline.

Well, here I am in
southern Jersey
Manchester Township
Ocean County
Riverside retirement community
side of the pond (man made)
composite bench under a gazebo erected on a concrete pad.
Sitting inside my cardigan next to my piccolo pipe and a pen in my hand,
wondering how I could feel so lost and so found at the same time.

I’ve been a stubborn *******.
Afraid to bear my Light within my hands and
expose it to my kin in a meaningful way.
But here I am,
early retirement
on an early afternoon
in a retirement community
full of elders
slinkin through the
early dusk of the
twilight of their lives.
And I don't like it.
I am not equanimous with what is.
I’ve excreted so many toxins that the
re-uptake is nearly too much to bear.
I’ve carried empty green notepads in my back pocket for years.
Pen and pad with scotch tape holding down the binding;
worth about three or four poems max.
“Yea I fancy myself a writer, just not very prolific.”
You can only speak something into being so many times
before the universe starts agreeing with you.
Old man Saturn couldn’t give a **** about
little fears and excuses.
The limits of necessity were only
bad wiring
rendered by
my own hand.
And that goes down smooth like a fish-bone in the throat.

I own enough scarves and robes to
circumambulate the globe a few times.
If only I could fly
it would be in such style
because on the outside I look how I want to feel on the inside.
Before my heart center I hold the dharmachakra mudra and
I stare into a candle flame.
I could of sworn they prescribed this treatment
early in the Rig Veda for guys with ailments like mine;
running mad like beside his shadow and
fleeing all the house flies;
sliding down the side of a waxing crescent moon.

only the moon it is a scythe;
a crescent knife.
Waning in early retirement,
old man Saturn coming for his life.

I want go to Saturn
sounds better
a place with out any developed pattern
school school school work work work
Saturn sounds better

Helium and hydrogen
never dealing with fake friends
abusive boyfriends
stubborn parents

Saturn has no gang violence
Instead, rings of rock and ice!
A place with no money; no price!
No footage, no comments on display
no replay or rewrite
no right to wrong
no ego to let go
its just now
a dot on a giant thing
with rings
waiting to hear you sing
my love; my life
take flight
A journey of no return
I want to go to Saturn