Mon 16 Apr 2012
The Exploration of Space
Each planet is unique like fingerprints,
Like palms crossed with life lines, heart lines, fault lines.
We are cradled in these hands, shaped to fit.
Squirming pups. Sniffing the winds for others.
They beckon from the woods across the road.
Here boy, fetch the bone, dissolve your own,
Seeking hands, having gnawed the ones you’ve known.
Deaf, half-blind, old, shambling across blacktop,
The vast reaches of space where worlds collide
With horns and screeches and scarcely a sound
But a bang, a whimper—a good dog gone.