SEA ARABIAN
Back where
I started not
quitw back.where everything started in
our two hundred million
year galactic rotation
I blow into the tiny sail of my
home-made ketch
sending it across the
puddle which is
now my sea Arabian
trading for spices not
for blasphemous, iniquitious things that Empires
need for gold
and glory
seeking out
fine wines and art and
cloth of great magnificence
trading with
what little I have to give
did not occur to me (since my
play play world
did not aspire to the realm
of thought experiment)
how toy boat is in motion, I am
in motion
planet is in motion
everything is in motion
at fantastic velocities
everyrhing, though there will.be
buy-outs, investitures, mergers
acquisitions, collisions,
the mighty galaxy,
Andromeda, blue-
shifting our way
whilst the rest of the Universe
hurtling away from us
moving so fast their light
disappearing
soon
not a hint of what was
out there
to remain
something in our hearts
perfect for such darkness
as I search the visible heavens
for stars with Arabic names
kingly stars, to guide my
puddle-boat as it navigates
its waters
dark drowning waters
so many stars even
captured in
my splash of puddle ocean
wish to
last until morning
reflection of the shifting
nature if the cosmos
(same puddle quite
obviously never
sailed the same time)
and the vagaries of
our time, human
time
with its moments of light
sagas of epic
darkness
disaster
unspeakable monstrosity
magic city of Baghdad
namer of these stars
its people slaughtered across
the sands more than the stars
far more far more
stood
in the path
of the golden horde
and my little ketch
so worse for wear,
battling nights
of all weathers
soon to be lost
wrecked upon some shore
back where it
we started:
movement
our purpose
movement
our all
poems 2 die for 