Really really big

Three thousand people
In Brighton last week
met Brian to talk about space
Not a seat there was free
it was thrilling to see
with excitement right there in the place

The screen on the stage
was the biggest I’d seen
and when filled with the cosmos out there
It filled one with awe
with the things that you saw
and the wonders that he had to share

Advertisement

Drifts

Nebulaic drift of space glows pregnant with stars
Pulsates with unseen radiation, reflects light upon broken hulls
Billowing gases thread through holes laced by stellar blasts
Huge gas pillars glow with the light from star birth

The Difference Between Me And You

I think there’s been a misunderstanding.

I like rain storms, not brain storms

Real streams, not work streams

Connected

If there’s a way from x to y
The space in which points live and die
Is more or less connected.

Eldritch Abominate Creatures – ‘The Translucent Hyperrider’

Somewhere in the farthest galaxy…

Neon translucent membrane
glow for every hyperride
Electric Lime sprinklings are
hyperspace take offs
long bushy brown prickles
pasted on transparent woody tentacles
lash bulgy mandibles
green radiance inside rubber bones
are the eternal soul

Birthday Request

“Pillars of Creation”: Hubble photo of interstellar gas and dust in the Eagle Nebula, some 6,500-7,000 light years from Earth where stars are born

I asked for the superpower of “Folding” for my birthday.
It cuts out the middle man:
Gimme a calendar with tricky bits, I said.
I’d fold weeks, months, years, centuries together,
jump to any time, past or future.

The first would be hanging with
the first human band to walk out of Africa .

Tapestry – Sonnet 34

.

The Shape and Majesty of the Luminous Night,
Sings Splendid Vision to my Questing Sight,
Ever Calling to my Longing Gaze,
In Shifting Shadow and Spectral Haze,

Spectacle

.

Diligence in Temporal Light,

Sound and Silence, Intrinsic Delight;

Ocean of Storms

Oceanus Procellarum, or the Ocean of Storms is a large area on the Moon. It forms part of the Man in the Moon that you see at full Moon. One day the name just kept on rolling around my tongue, until this poem arrived.

Bubbles

As my eyes grew
Blooming blue bubbles
Off this sea of emotion
Touching every world, on this flight

They grew your eyes
Blossoming pink bubbles
Off this desert of judgment
Holding every shine, on this bosom

Spectacle

Diligence in Temporal Light,

Serenade of Solitude

Dim the Candle, Burning Bright,

Into the Hush of Twilit Night,

Surrender to the Sweetest Sound,

Sugared Sky

Sweet Sugared Sky
Candy Colours to Please the eye,
Scintillating
Captivating,

Wingless Freedom

so what if remain wingless
are we not gas molecules
in this expansive space
by nature, to taste freedom

That Space In Between

Where we find hope

Framed by last night and tomorrow

that sight

that helps our tired soul

to want to wish for whimsical

delights.

My Love

I’m building this house on the moon
Like a lost astronaut
Looking at you like a star
From a place the world forgot

There’s nothing that I can do
The brightness of the sun
Will give me just enough
To bury my love for you

What Is Time?

What is time?
What is this thing that goes on without pause?
If it did not pass
Then where could it have been?
It must have been somewhere
It has passed
So where is it now?
It must be somewhere

Horizon birds

Always there is the horizon. And never it is making sense
It is no line, but just an abrupt ending,
a fence between the world we know and all that lies beyond.
Yet I see a line. My mind wants logic in this too grand overkill of space.