i am
but a
dearling,
a darling
Capricorn;
with his
tenderlings
not
yet
budding.
year
of the
yearling,
year-long
yearning for
space walks.
rendering
the DNA,
raveled
into ringlets
dangled
in frozen
fragility
of pearl
bracelets.
intertwined
like
a necklace;
the love
my parents
shared.
at least
one time.
destined
to be
well traveled;
nestled
in a
blanket of
pine needles
& honey
i reach
out from
earth’s cradle;
longing to
find a
super
nova
more
special
than any
we have
gleaned
before.
one
that will
last past
the
collapse
of our
æther.
chestnut
shell
rocking.
this station
of the universe
is too small now,
we must go,
now
.
∶
⁞
Stephen Hawking
hypothesized
in
one of
his usual
bouts
of miraculous
syllabic
tongue
twisters
that
the universe
has an
end,
just
as all
living
creations
have a
beginning.
blazing
bravery
we are
living
beings.
we will
scoff
in the
face of
clocks &
hypothetical
hypochondriacs
will quiver.
photogenic
phylogenetics
captured
by the
lenses
of dying
Keppler,
zipping like
ice skates
past
Jupiter.
Dance
around
the rings
of Saturn,
& suicide
our weak
in honor
of Cassini
⁞
∶
.
Or stay
day dreaming
here upon
the heavenly
rains that
rapture the
African
savannas.
But i,
i will
try to
forge
paths for
distances
as far
out as
forevers.
May the
future
generations
of humans
make
it farther…
. . .may they
be the
answer
to my
ever
burning
question:
Is

there

intelligent

life

here on Earth?
.
.
.
∗s⁞x pm