I dream of space and rocket ships, rotation of the sun's ellipse, and traveling to planet Mars, a pit stop to more distant stars, galactic dust and pulsar flips. To view without the webcam clips, from my own eyes, not microchips, with reverie's binoculars, I dream of space. The cusps of vivid quasars' lips- the last of macrocosmic trips before awakened mental scars- they shield me from this world of ours. Although my reason comes to grips, I dream of space tonight.
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AuthorJack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana. Archives
February 2021
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