You’re A Long Way From Home, Astronaut

The aeroplane flies away

And carves a bladed frame

Through hypnotic dead air,

Exiled from gravity’s bullying horrors.

Mood ring satellites

Nip deep at moon marrow fingers

And empties its milked ore overload,

To blind the wistful eye

Of an evaporating sun.

The unmoored aeroplane skirts the ebony rim

And punctures paper mâché lungs,

Exhaling death rattle transmissions

In 7/8 time.

Captain Zero kindly requests

That you forward any universal quandaries

To Violeta Of The Soul Sucked Skies,

Where her cosmos crowned saplings

Eat up an afterbirth of stars,

A million miles high.

The aeroplane salutes God

Then dips down

And bleeds a mercury tail,

As delirium casts radar shackled magnet eyes

Through television snow,

And the pull of below is a disintegrating ballet for the ages.