Back To The Spaceship

Your spaceship came
to pick you up
went back to the stars
to stir them all up
back to the stars
back to the spaceship
back to the galaxies and nebula that birthed the ages

too short to see it

too long to watch it happen

every dot aligns in the place it should be
everything is a conflagration to gasses
unleashed to run the gambit before ash and ashes
reveal the moonlight
on the dark side of the none-too-soon.
we're here
then we're not.
people die waiting on the phone
or during card games
holding hard on to secrets
running rum through old dreams
to keep it
intact
in fact
its nothing but truth eventually
old memories
eventually extinguish relvance in 100 years
we are old chords
sheet music from another age
"Look your Darling Girl!" in waltz time
with a hint of spilled soda water, silver polish; oysters
where old people sing and talk of their throat
imbeciles rail against guns and wheat
can you see what its done to me
to look back into through clocks into
those eyes for which in time there is no explanation?

(right here there is a burst of stars and nothingness)

standing on the rim of the sea
I never know how well I know the seam of the sky
there is no floating cabinet of shadows replicating
no rudderless complication
we're off on a dream
an occasional nightmare seam
a tangent, its plangent scattering evident
and everygreen
ever seen
like bugs on a glass  / autumn window in new york
polished with ash (the graves in chorus)
public and rubric
and stooped
in the valley
of explanation.

If I'm dreaming all my life

It started with Natalie Cole
then it was Lemmy
then it was the Tall Man
then it was David Bowie
then it was Alan Rickman.

before that it was Robin Williams.
before that it was Kirsty MacColl.
deaths that rocked me, gutted me and changed me.
Am I just too sensitive? Would I still give a damn if I wasn't?
Is it better to live in bliss but be torpid of mind or thin of desire?
Some days the choices seem to wobble.
would it be better to keep looking or decide on a bookend?
I'm getting past the point in my life where there are more stars dying
than there are new heroes being born.
I'm sort of torn.

I'm at the mouth of a bridge here.
I know it.

I'm seeing the end often enough to question my mistakes
I'm self critical enough to know I was made
to do something I'm not doing.
It wasn't enough to have my heart broken
or my spirit burnished but I'm still in it
for some stupid reason
I'm seeking
something.