Satellite

Pair, not pare, as if we needed two

to know communication is necessary

to Foxtrot or Tango binary is Zebra.

We ask only to mishear the confusing

theories or holes in our black clad alibis

for why we were here, inevitable and

loving no matter what sound it makes,

it needs a forest to muffle and cover us

under the pitch-not Vanta Black-not-yet-we shall see

and still sense something deeper is out there...

            Let me ask. No.

            Since you seem knowledgeable-

            Do you think we look cool, all lit up or have we

            lost track

            of trends? Colors can be tricky.

            It could be a culture thing, a sign of life, in slushy seas

            that contain multitudes of whale hymns and plankton

            choruses from eons ago, it goes, it goes,

            (never mind, I don't know the words)

We have a half a million tiny satellites hovering around us,

moons, rocks, bacterium, the hum-dingers

tinier than ten cent meters, that do five hundred dollar dashes---

in a rocket sneeze planned projectory that resembles

the ideal arc to release a stream of (consciousness) these; could be

Defined as:

1. ) a natural body

2.) a device

3.) a branch office or alternate location

4.) a subservient follower of another (led/lead)

5.) a country under domain

Of Another Aliens or

404, Page not Found.

Artwork by Henri Théophile Hildibrand in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, 'Around the Moon' (1872).

Revelations

Some days
                  I see everything
just
                  as it should be
Grateful that the sun blazes
                 safely so far away
Lucky that the moon is so close by
                 and I still cannot feel
my own heart beat
                 or sense the spin,
a feeling of reeling along
at more than fourteen miles
                                   per minute
still.

How far
                I've come and gone
making a present of the past
pulled into others gravity
and laced in fine ribbons
                of harmony.


Most days
it seems blinking and breath
                                  proceed without
preference-
                                  all the same
never was needed nor noticed
how it all blends together
                                 by degrees
always perfection
                                 in reflection
just
Today
I said
It has never been Up to blue,
It was
Always red.





Painting By Otto Freundlich [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Geocentric gluttony

The body is a satellite,
it probes the air around
taking in
bits and streams, intervals
in waves two miles per second
perpetually.

Its sensors are set
on hyper-sensitive,
it blinks and thinks
oft from aloft,
flashing reflections
for frozen photos
at shuddering speeds.

Collecting all inertial information,
which is then converted
upside-down
into mirror images larger
than they may seem.

Orbitally over and over obituary,
that last time around-
when all the light hits just right
for focusing fractally...

-Halo-

By and bye,
balance comes alone
as attitude control.

A hovering soul,
holding a body in space
that filter feeds on forces
consuming raw data
for a sensual feast
with a heavy tip
for the payload.



Image by NASA and originally uploaded to wikipedia by Reubenbarton [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Earth in equipoise

Home,
the word hums
and soothes in smooth repose,
perpetually proves, be-
longing, to know hospitable
conditions are predictable.

We hold these truths
in suspension,
taut in timely tension,
grounded in granite,
equating gravity
with magnanimous motive.

She spins out
like a top
to a point
where sound and light
are white
in stasis
harm-ony
equate-or
aligned in orbital
epi-phany.
Home.


Image taken By NASA/Scott Kelly from ISS 7/19/2015, Moon, Venus, Jupiter, Earth [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.