i was reading about the space station just before how fast it travels around the earth all of the sunrises it comes across within the span of a day the speeds it has to reach to accomplish such an atrocity my father was so fascinated by that sort of thing rockets and stardust and black holes and satellites i used to find the sky so redundant until i fell into it there was a fever in the heavenlies that i’ve been hungry for ever since … but the smell of death was the ruin of my ancestors drawing in the destitute to lay down their fortunes the low hum of a wagon wheel whistling along out and past some abstract, steam-ridden station filled with cheap bottles and parked planes in a low light bonfires burning the roadside’s tight angles as i begin to plan my own transportation and some dump of a shack to stay in for the night … salvation has begun to turn to pure concrete from crystalline powder as the world’s weight slips from between my teeth there is no pattern of the past i’d again request this is no more a matter for the sure of heart a distant sort of concept from tobacco fields and creeks that shine like the moon split veins find their way back together and the broken chains that sway behind become like wind chimes singing of the sweet freedom that lay ahead for the children of the blue … (all i fear now is disconnection from you)
With All of my Love,
Jules