Entertainment Plaiming

Crystal,
let us forget the consequences,

crystal,
let us leave the planet.

Although our settings were incorrect,
crystal somehow propelled us
into the outer orbits of stars,

by Penthius and Glaxxian,

where one can see oneself
in the mirror between dimensions.

And rocks and dust fell outside the window
as
we headed towards that point in Space
to where we did not know we were going.

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

The Greens Of Prolmama

The Greens Of Prolmama
that place by the sunglasses store on Sunset Blvd
has helped a lot of cancer survivors get that way
You’ve been that way with your teeth
to stop and turn to the mountain
it makes us look that way
the way we look when there’s just too much
Cowboys riding into the future from the past on a spaceship
or an ion generation device
They make nice clothing at least for the persons who want
to look like that
The Greens infuse my chest cavity
so I look up to see Andromeda’s aftermath
and the aftermath is ignored by all the mammals and the reptiles
unless there’s fire
we’re then drawn outward
to a journey that takes a long long time
I could count the plastic in the toy store
or a municipal dump all for an afternoon to remember now
when we kissed as men reading the Bible

 

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

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 W.T. tuqMairtin