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Thursday, December 9, 2010



You said you need
half an hour.

So, I wait for you.


Outside your house,
I watch stars—countless stars—
appear in August sky.
They shine like candles
left on windowsills to guide
the homeward bound.


I assign seconds to distant suns, play connect-the-dots with time
till stars over Snellville: I am here, writing poetry in my head.

I am here.


Are those stars the possibilities never actuated
into reality, pitied by the gods, rescued only to be
cast amongst the light year vastness?


We are Orion chasing the daughters of Atlas!
To pursue those stars
is to explore the subtle meanings
of happiness.

Copyright 2004, 2010 by T. J. Blackburn