Poem - i expect things to make sense

i expect things to make sense

with the sunlight i worship not here but 8 minutes into the past

and my very substance borne from an unknown star

exploded billions of years ago & specks of it wandered through trackless space

through an eternity of death


i expect to have certainty

in a place that is as fragile and transitory as it is ridiculous

with the rest of the universe in mind

full of emptiness and unequaled nothing

no sighs no thought no place


how amazing it is to be so different

like one polished gem in the inscrutable throat

of murderous time or a bright illogical mote of dust

that magically arises in the face of

the dread certainty of nothing

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Written, written, written -- might not be fixable, but there it is. For JJ. CM