1.
Each instant, undaunted,
a new future rises,
then falls, exhausted
through the present
into the hole
of the past it imagines.
2.
If I'm sure of anything,
it's that stars don't "align"
without the scrawny perspective
of the bleary-eyed night-worker.
And if they ever touched?
That wouldn't just be
a disaster.
More like
the industrial
factory that makes them.
3.
Somehow, what once was broken
may be briefly reassembled
may be briefly reassembled
at the death of the sun;
eons of discord, suddenly inverted,
could become
a pop song.
And a pop song
could be a life
in its sum—
bursts of transient
color, sound,
and temperature;
so far, you're
not less—and hardly
any more.
