I’m setting on my porch

watching stars

in a certain precision

colors and angles

you know, that engineer crap,

(I can’t help it.)

And I’m repeating what I know

as if it matters,

where these masses of gas

swilled and swayed into

place, that one or that angle.
(A different angle would matter you know!)


And I’m looking for the drone

of the star’s engines moving on a dark

blanket – somehow it’s warm

where Orion wraps up for the night

Bettleguese is ready to explode

turning red faced.

My daughter nods,


and goes inside.


12 Oct 08