This poem is your satellite
Curling high above the velour earth
On which you recline, half asleep.
A tiny bite of light’s lightness
Lightens and a word falls away,
Spins down, a small stone beneath
The soles of the world’s furry feet.
Put your ear to the hole in the dirt
Where it landed and waited there,
Brown picture jasper of my heart
Whispering impure silica, an
Aggregate of chalcedony
Like all the missed full moons:
I am rarely blue.
This poem is my satellite, Jeff. Thank you.
Tell more me more about this one, Jeff? I’m curious about the meaning.