Satellite At Night

I watched my shadow on the grass
walk in night.

The lamp cast it sad, human,
and remnant.

Is to be human
to be remnant,
          longing to live on some rock or star,
          burning away in the sky
          with 50 million years behind us?

Do these friendships turn into
satellites,
circling high above
so
we notice our silhouette in distance
on the grass . . .

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Quasar Molten, Passing Into Love

  
I wanted to protect
your veins as you lived

They became muddled
and pooled in blood
before me

After the days, the years
I felt them in science

the velocity of gravity
met me in sunshine

it bathed me grandiosely
turned from outer space

and I knew your heart
bleeding there in your
wrists

A Cemetery I Remember

There is a cemetery.
I remember this person there.
I remember my Grandmother.
I remember Aunt Julie.
I remember that person there.
There’s another person
I remember is in there
but I don’t remember exactly
who it was.
Not at this time.
Something about that person
and not remembering that person
reminds me of Walgreen’s,
specifically
the one off Atlantica Ave.
Maybe there’s a memory of Christmas,
Christmas candy?
Maybe it’s Mabel Marzikov,
or Andrew Littleton
at my family’s church in the early 80s?
I’m struggling to remember.