Celeste

These words don't mean much
Yours don't either
Not to be a downer
But we are partial;
Part star and part space

If you read science
Words with some heft
You know some dwarf stars run
And black holes suck light

It shouldn't scare us
Or belittle,
These majestic patterns,
But how can it not

I'm not hurling verbs
Just to vomit
The fixed cosmos cares not,
It's fixated

All that going on
While expanding
Then add huge mass to that
Now think about words

The this and that of,
Stacked distinction
Naming everything
Kind of exhausting

We communicate
Like it's high art
Limitless arrangements
Organized by marks

And yet all along
We measure things
Feeling safely nestled
In time, weight and space

Cushioning our way
Is a halo
Sounds almost comforting:
Dark matter blanket

But when turkeys talk,
Shoot. Marbled shit.
Speed: thousands per second.
Length: irrelevant.

All the world's stage one
For wordy types
Speaking in soft billions
Attached to the ground

We identify
With the porpoise
Those ancient squeals make sense
In that underworld

Our tracks showing holes
Gills in our ears
Space in our openings
Math in our bath tub

But back to hurling
Or hurtling
These mass-ridden objects
Across light eons

There's speculation
On what occurs
When dark matter equates,
The columnist wrote

He'll be held to that
Tethered to page
A good explanation
But not doing justice
In astral measures
--
8.19.13