Because we all want to write more poems.
Pan-STARRS
Trying for a glimpse of the awkwardly named comet
(the drier option is C/2011 L4)
I’m down by the river,
staring into the dregs of sunset.
It’s cold, my fingers needle complaints
why you wanna do this?
let’s go inside, get warm
A new front steals in slowly
from the southwest,
horsetails moving like minute hands
across the afterglow.
In fact, it’s all clocks and gears,
the cranking of the spheres
the great music box of it;
if our awareness were just a touch slower
we’d be dizzied by the complex motion
—we dust motes in God’s orrery.
Best to perceive in smaller increments,
apprehend only minutiae,
not sense the furious whirring of the machine—
distracted instead by details
like cold hands.
- Benjamin Gorman's Shared Poems
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