"asterisms" poems
I was once a lost star
Trying to find home in every galaxy that i come across
Wandering through every asterisms
Tracing the images in my mind
Making me wonder if one day
I, too, will be part of an art in the starry night sky
Light years away, i travelled
Meteors, asteroids, comets passed me by
They said hello but after a while, already waved goodbye
And then I came across you
A star, which happens to be lost, too
We danced through the moons of Jupiter
We sang across the Milky Way
We even made magical rainbows
On planets along our way
And for the first time I felt
That not only I, was a lost star anymore
Together, we make constellations
Through the celestial space
With our incandescent light
That illuminates the whole sky
With that I came to realize
That we finally found our home
In each other’s radiance
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 2:10 AM UTC
won't save Nine
because her seams have already split.
And anyways,
I saw Nine last week,
she whirled herself off the side of a cliff.
I watched her spin like a pink petal,
severed from bloom by breeze.
She hit the ground crying, a bit broken,
but alright.
Now, she sleeps at the base of a dark hill
tucked in the husk of a rusted sedan.
Nights, she stares at asterisms,
moons, smoke-sagged galaxies.
She thinks of dead light,
long journeys,
and how it is different to be a moon
than a star.
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 12:29 PM UTC
The Queen without a face:
Standing between two warriors -two friends- built with star composites, asterisms.
She is crowned with Corona Borealis- glittering, sparkling. She smiles.
Hercules pats her on the back, playfully. The crown slips onto the Queen’s nose at an angle, her hair in a mess.
The three of them walk across the grassy horizon.
Acid bliss. Citrus circuits.
What?
Unclear writing, unclear thinking, thunking. Wait, who? Why now, tautology. Unclear, inconclusive.
The starry-eyed lover of everything? Or the overcast, dark spectacled preacher king? Graphite eyes, starry skies? Pies, kies, lies, what rhymes with eyes and skies and light-bending forces threatening to. Tear. Me. Apart.
Ghosts and gravity, black holes and dark thoughts, deceiving selves and lying heart. Tautology. Unclear. Inconclusive.
Forlorn is a pretty word.
God save me:
Save me. From myself. And.
For myself.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
“stars are the poetry of the heaven,”
she breathed into my ear
molten magic flowing from her lips
And led me through a vast cosmos
dancing to the tune of time
our footsteps leaving trails of stars
sprinkled across an inky canopy of velvet
Her fingers interlaced between mine,
spilling moonlight
Staining silver on my hands
we moved from day to night
As she pulled me closer to her
Stars tumbling from her sweet silken kisses
And
i fell
Plummeting down to the earth
Burning constellations in the darkness
The golden ash of stars
Kissing my closed eyelids
And through my tangled eyelashes
I saw asterisms
ce n’était qu’un rêve———
It was all a dream
no, her honey-dusted lips whispered into my ear
It was all a lie.
Dec 6, 2019
Dec 6, 2019 at 10:00 PM UTC
better that the dome of night shiver
below sinful seraphim, their nacreous orbs fuming laws inferred,
epiphany pooling like molten steel
in the tarnished bloodstream of a lone truck bed,
besainting dearth as chrism oil,
alluding that running became sacrament,
that being torn asunder was a humility,
than to lie dumb beneath haughty asterisms
seeking evasive sonants on steamy glass,
where “love” thawed like an eidolic oath,
and i, benighted author of crave, parrot
your rebirth as if invoking an evensong,
loath to forsake the vow of your dawn,
because to conceive oblivion would be the true heresy.
Jul 12, 2025
Jul 12, 2025 at 7:53 PM UTC
I've lost you, old friend. These stories I write; I put periods on penultimates; abandon treasures in attics; things I love. How easy to blur--to get comfy. This brain needs rough edges, slicing blames. Cold winter stars keep this machine active, heaping more coal on the fires to keep warm. My hands are cold; I'm forgetting to keep warm; to keep.
I saw a shooting star starring at orion warrior in clouds and sand; but sand it isn't; asterisms are gathered pebbles I use peruse lose in lactic glass. Flotsam; seashells; that's what meteors are; they are. You can't dream 'em, trust 'em in pixel black home; only see. A glimpse; turn up; look up; so many stars. I saw lady luck in constellations conjuring, memories music mournings--mourn. I mourn the things I did not want; I seek asterisms's deep; warrior constellation is a garnet, others connected by. What? I can't see the depth of heaven. You try to peel your gold make-believes; to see behind, when really, your ambition has made you a beggar. Beggar wants what cannot give happiness, truth. There is nothing on the other side; there is nothing behind the fabric of heaven; you fail to fathom; attributes and properties of the world unseen, in depth. Let yourself. Give. Ugh, I can't see! Universe is unseeable; reconciliation is heart's quest. Eternity into everyday.
I wonder
in.
I love
to.
Rough edges. To feel alive is an obsession with death; a goodly death is rare. Life is lived when death and reckoning are done, and God gives--love to me. Rainwater; petrichor; Son's crimson stain; my pages sticky with grace. Grace, gosh, grace; I don't deserve to die a goodly life. I deserve fate of dark shooting stars; you can't dream 'em, trust 'em; only not see. Meteors are mirrors; I see myself; I don't. See. Myself.
14/12/2015
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC