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"lepus" poems
Raindrops on golden hair. They are brown spots, little spots Scattered, wind blowing them Left and right, Towards her forehead, smooth Save for two red bumps above The eyebrows. Towards her neck, little hairs Standing, stubbornly, scornfully, A protest against the Rainy chill. These freckles on her crown, they are tiny constellations. I want to join them up, I want to find Orion, Trace my fingers against Lepus, Understand the lines of Indus, But I can't.
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Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
Freckles
Watch me closely, God, though you’ve seen it all before. I’ve got the universe up my sleeve and it’s itching for a sleight, if you’re willing to be conned. The stardust filling Aquarius has poured for countless millennia and it won’t brim the bottomless cup of your oceanic blues. That’s the warm-up for Lepus who, lean and polar-white, leaps out from my flipped-over cap and is chased by the steel-plied Orion’s hankering for roast hare. Hunger-driven this heaven hunter has a saggy belt; his sword’s tip drags, slicing Gemini in two, but twins can’t be parted long and divinely grasping Pollux clasps Castor’s pause anew. Conjoined, they bow together under showers of milky petals kissing no-longer furrowed brows till black velvet curtains fall and are followed by your eons of endearing applause.
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Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 6:41 AM UTC
Glass you gave me is emptiful, The
I opened my eyes on the front porch of my house. Mosquitoes,crickets singing latest ballads, And all I could think of was The connection between my constellation and yours. Orion and Lepus look almost intertwined from down here, but I know better.
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Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
Rocking chair
Let’s make a wish Upon a shooting star A wish that will go, and travel far. No matter where, no matter how Let’s make a wish To a world un-round. LOOK! Its Orion, which means Lepus is near Soon we’ll see Fornax, but lonely Pyxis hides within the heavens still. You say “They're not complex” But, I argue they are. You say “They're just gases” But, I argue they're stars And on them live wishes and chances and dreams. So, let’s make a wish On that frozen Asteroid. On that white tailed beast. And we’ll let it decide which wish shall be You’ll make a wish for the Universe to unravel For knowledge unbound, for the truth to be revealed For answers to all, for guesses to none For Peter to remain lost, for the sword of Damocles to fall. I’ll make a wish For Artemis to shoot her bow And knock a star out of the sky A gift to you my friend For the Universe to remain a mystery I’ll make this wish for you tonight.
0
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
Shooting Stars
Night disturbed by calling birds in a cacophony as stars twinkle brightly I sit lost in the night Orion stands guard Perseus as well Taurus and Lepus, graze Auriga rides nearby Castor and Pollux, Gemini shines Streaking shooting stars satellites drifting in their orbit green and red lights of the occasional plane season the heavens All these high above while we watch in the darkness lost in the universe that we can see
0
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
A Slice of the Universe
and the difference between a higher tier whiskey and a lower tier whiskey? higher tier: pale amber... lower tier: tickling caramel bourbon... and yes: i like my alcohol with a story of its own, one of exploring the palette... yes... glen moray: there's certainly butter-scotch in it... but the lemongrass? not with every glass, which is why i find connoisseurs suspect... not from one glass, and certainly not from a sniffing around... unlike ***** drank properly: shoved into a freezer and then drank smoothly like a gômme syrop... whiskey: the profanity of sipping it straight... or mixing it like some British WWI colonel with some soda water... on ice... one minute delay... culls the bite of any excess Smokey Fitzpaddy left... neck on the guillotine! oh but i have drank to the brain-drain body numbing stages of youth's exploits... famously Edinburgh's snakebite: half a cider, half a lagger topped with blackcurrant concentrate... what?! not lagger? what then... lager, i.e. lay-ger? digger not dye-ger of diger? no via no why as to why: it's dein-ger for danger and hop-hop for the dagger of Brutus? et tu: tutti ******* frutti... hop-hop: Easter bunny softy, as i... et tu: as an epitaph with no grave... and however many maxims... said puppet in the fiddly tongue-tied aspect of death's philosopher stone: the Hindu wild-eyed traffic of reincarnation... epitaph contra maxims: life's load and a foot dent on the earth like: the one that they won't take a photograph of: as they did of the one on the moon... pointless going to Mars... not taking random earth objects to the moon... to see: funny-whacky gravity do don't: sample some clock-ticking on the father to the daughters of the tides, the rains... and all: and they minded the egoist... while they shoved the whole universe in their minds with cthulhu receptors: and... well... it wasn't exactly 1990s television static... or... what the sight of Belzeebub looks like... the whole lagger not lager "debate"? i don't even want to bring diacritical marks into this... and i won't! first prize: silver sputnik of brunswick... now all i'm missing is a banjo... and a toothpick... as ever this medium: concentrates upon the motto: sequor lepus albus.
0
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 8:19 PM UTC
glen moray: connoisseurs suspect / sequor lepus albus
and the difference between a higher tier whiskey and a lower tier whiskey? higher tier: pale amber... lower tier: tickling caramel bourbon... and yes: i like my alcohol with a story of its own, one of exploring the palette... yes... glen moray: there's certainly butter-scotch in it... but the lemongrass? not with every glass, which is why i find connoisseurs suspect... not from one glass, and certainly not from a sniffing around... unlike ***** drank properly: shoved into a freezer and then drank smoothly like a gômme syrop... whiskey: the profanity of sipping it straight... or mixing it like some British WWI colonel with some soda water... on ice... one minute delay... culls the bite of any excess Smokey Fitzpaddy left... neck on the guillotine! oh but i have drank to the brain-drain body numbing stages of youth's exploits... famously Edinburgh's snakebite: half a cider, half a lagger topped with blackcurrant concentrate... what?! not lagger? what then... lager, i.e. lay-ger? digger not dye-ger of diger? no via no why as to why: it's dein-ger for danger and hop-hop for the dagger of Brutus? et tu: tutti ******* frutti... hop-hop: Easter bunny softy, as i... et tu: as an epitaph with no grave... and however many maxims... said puppet in the fiddly tongue-tied aspect of death's philosopher stone: the Hindu wild-eyed traffic of reincarnation... epitaph contra maxims: life's load and a foot dent on the earth like: the one that they won't take a photograph of: as they did of the one on the moon... pointless going to Mars... not taking random earth objects to the moon... to see: funny-whacky gravity do don't: sample some clock-ticking on the father to the daughters of the tides, the rains... and all: and they minded the egoist... while they shoved the whole universe in their minds with cthulhu receptors: and... well... it wasn't exactly 1990s television static... or... what the sight of Belzeebub looks like... the whole lagger not lager "debate"? i don't even want to bring diacritical marks into this... and i won't! first prize: silver sputnik of brunswick... now all i'm missing is a banjo... and a toothpick... as ever this medium: concentrates upon the motto: sequor lepus albus.
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125
Some say you turn into a star when u die, Some see hunters and bears , A pegasus and Lepus the hare, Some say that they are distant. Moving away at 67.8 km/s Can't they all just wait and stare??
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Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC
katasterismoi
The moon the stars and the whole galaxy A few hours,  A million years, A billion it warps and changes it all happens at one expecting to see the yellow at night a reflection of irises A brightness of soul beneath shadows of night Wondering eyes for stars  connecting to find strands  Leo, Lepus, Lynx, Lupus,  No sextant will find the hue of jade No eyes will see the forest  No hands will run through the foliage  A deathbed shared with a sibling  and a constellation yet to be discovered
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Jun 4, 2025
Jun 4, 2025 at 12:08 AM UTC
Luna