by July 26, 2013 0 comments

Each year the light is less.
We can barely see it now,
The faint necklace of
The Milky Way.

The old ones were wrong,
You know with their waxed fingers
Pointing up like abandoned adobe.

Yet you know better in your cubical gardens
And half moth-eaten moons,
You have arrived in

editors note:

Imprisoned in this understanding: Caution! The end of the universe is closer than it appears. – mh

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