A river ran through once, salt crust remnants
still cling in the creases & crevices criss-crossing
the surFACE of this forgotten planet---
beLOW the pools of blue--lakes wet enough to reflect
twin suns, on days it comes---but BElow,
the hills have moved, that which held them in place
A forest LIES to the north, wire-y & sparse,
south a twiSTING jungle, they rim the desert,
pocked & pitted as it is-
as it is-
Is this what is left?
What desolated this place?
An ancient history lives here, unwritten or recorded,
of a people, passed down on cracked lips
that seldom speak---so many
other heavenly bodies, it's slipped into shadow
Venus crosses the sun & everyone turns, yet---
no wind breaks with nothing to cause it,
at-most-spherically speaking, of course
traverSING the universe on duct taped sandals,
he settles in a pile at the corner, back
to the brick, back to the brick
INTREPID EXPLORERS, see his face,
SEE HIS face---this forgotten planet, a whole race
extinct to notice, deaf ears hear---
---you got twenty five cent, man?
need some change, i need
At dVerse Poets today, Charles Miller is having us explore other worlds and alien landscapes. Mine may be a bit more familiar. The landscape of the face of those that cling to the periphery of our own world. Aliens & strangers right here at home.
Also submitted to Poetry Jam.