sometimes i like to follow the comet –

chase the many heads and tails

of mystery’s universe. does she go out

with a bang? or is it this forever silence

between us; someone is not saying the full

truth. i swear this is not perjury, it never

got dripped in this black and white,

and the matter of the point i insist! said the damsel

whose pouting looks did her no good

at least not in the way she likes to define those

grace like killer instinct she holds in her claw,

then she talks a lick – this had better be good.

and i was choking with hysteria when the pink face

woman began to scream because her aim had gone off

base. in fact it was so off base, it took off my cap

till i found myself to be a shooting star – and i did not go

straight to the moon. i ended somewhere between today

and the many memories now etched in the sketchbook i like

to think of as mine. you see, someday, i might. i just might want

to pay the sky, tell my enemies and friends alike that there is no point

in this senseless war. of hate and love, the comet has caught up with

the star which has now landed. landed solidly on my realm off – existence.

then i tell the woman no longer screaming that the sunflower

tied on her hair is no longer going to beam for the sky.

someone has to come down first, the realm of no existence

seemed to prick a hole in this dense dark matter. it warps, it climaxes

into many boring worm holes and they no longer

wonder about time, wander through tunnels. they’ve become

accustomed to the enriched matter lying side by side.

it’s their only way of conversing these days, though you better

not stare too long.