Change And The Cosmos

We are old souls.

We don’t have children.

The Earth is changing.

God bless,
it will wipe us all away.

We’ve had many children before.

They will live elsewhere.

Somewhere else
in the Stars.


Poetry from tewkMehrtin

5,000 Years From This

When our skin becomes
secondary

When our skin becomes
a backdrop of stars
to a world not in light

Layered over
bones and shells
and mountains
our ancestors once scaled

Then we advance to a
civilization past any
we’ve ever been

But we’re 5,000 years
from there

Will we make it
before we kill ourselves
over the color of our skin
or the fiendism of
our economics . . .

before we destroy our earth

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Saidness

You move on me, not like a mirror,
but like daylight.

A dying man’s life was really a day,
one long day of life:
watch the sky open, watch the sky close.
This cloudscape belongs above Montana.

You step in me, not like mud,
but like river:
unlike the cat chase of Mohenjo-Daro,
unlike the Martian meteorites.

The turquoise from the jewelry-makers of God
I take from your eyes
and hold onto the colors of day.
There: life is frozen.

O Antarctica, only you have beaten time,
or so
the foreign-exchange students
from the mermaid-lands
have told me.

I love you, football, tender, tender.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
lovers of the century thumbnail image
Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)

The Surprise Of Graymont Seeing Pinsky

With the astronaut herself
I ran up to her funeral.

At her funeral was the telling of the cliffs above Mars
and the planets around Centauri.

Her husband and children were there weeping
and
the Nation
looked on
through video channels and viewing devices.

Politicians and bureaucrats spoke about space air
and referenced the “distant cliffs” she’d walked above,
the “distant stars” she’d seen,
the t-shirts she wore,
and even the fluorescent green rain she farmed crops underneath.

When we walked up
they turned around amazed and looked up in shock.
Stricken with sweat and a pale white face,
someone spoke up and said,
“Holy Lazarus! It’s you! Captain Marsha Pinsky!
It’s you!”

“It is me indeed, Graymont.

I have returned home, Colonel Graymont.

Was this what you were expecting?”


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image