June Poem 21

Destruction and creation

Into motion for posterity.

The world’s first beginnings

At the distant edges

The thing moves faster—

Faster as it converges.


I am the center

A universal spiral

All matter historian, void.

Motivated to coalesce,

Spin in a vortex, to become gain

Because I recognize even them.

It spins in reds, oranges, and whites.


Once down my face,

There is a tension.

My chest. Again lost.


I can feel the tears streaming.

Only this,

Tightness of sorrow.

I am lying

Face on my center.


I remember old arthritic knuckles

And wrinkles and wrinkled hands.

My hands are covered.


In red all—

The friends dead.

Write down the results.

Preserve the universe.

This is the event that causes me.