A Stop Along the Milky Way for Some Tiramisu

To follow the path of combusting stars

from sky

to the very world

that receives the starlight

requires a stop along the Milky Way.

I chance this sojourn

not knowing how it will figure

in the overall promise

or composition of the world

replete with errors,

tropes, and falsifications.

During the cold night that has been chosen

for its resplendence,

my words and the combusting stars

wander from their accustomed place.

I taste the sweet lift-me-up

that helps to fashion a fortunate life.

Blessed is that raw slumber

to which a dream is affixed.

Calamity Control

Without great cause

to whimper and whine,

I am content now to daydream,

looking out at the unadorned sky,

re-living how a flowerpot fell

from a brownstone’s windowsill

the moment I passed by

on customary city walk from here to there.

The thud was not as great

as when the plastic bottle of Evian

fell in the same fashion, different day,

just missing me.

So I envisioned country wicker.

Find a porch with some curvature

to receive the sun’s benediction.

Expect that rain

will be the only thing falling —

and the only intrusion,

some handsome deer, nibbling.