or earlier in Wagga Wagga,

this angel hair falling from the sky

would seem a cosmic prank.

Like crop circles, Nessie, Yetis,

the footprints of unicorns,

those little heart-shaped trails

made of human desire.

But this story is true, as spiders,

slow on the ground, migrate

by the thousands, hauling up

from underground cities.

Weaving shrouds,

that shawl trees, blanket grass,

flag tall buildings, decorate

even a stunned man’s beard.

They fling snag lines into the air,

arachnid Wings of Blue,

letting the wind flag them

across the silk roads.

Stardust

“We are in the universe and the universe is in us.”

- Neil deGrasse Tyson

I see him now, tall, stately, that dark star

of the planetarium, waving his arms

in time to the music of the seventies.

His robe is filled with motes,

enchanter’s hat straining upward.

We are pulled into his orbit.

Not magic, not the charlatan’s hand.

Science guides his links and arcs

as he leads us through the maze of sky

into our bodies’ own galaxies.

The Metric of Space

“The universe is connected and alive and we are a part of the metric of space.” - Nassim Haramein

My metrics have more to do with houses

than constellations. I measure

with a smaller stick.

Need of additional closets

is the space that now concerns me.

Consider yourself warned.

I have a small mind where space

is concerned. Once I believed

we would travel the universes.

I signed up for one of those jaunts.

That was when I was connected and alive.

Now NASA is but a pimple

on the backside of a budget equation.

Space travel happens only

in movies and books.

Since my ticket never got punched,