Modern Man Discovers Dark Matter

Baste the egg of the earth in its water
surrounding the mountains that broil
beneath the waves that are invisible
until motion stops on the steamy plains
when the chain gangs break down salt
into music of ice and concerts of fossils.

On Saturn, no curry, just gas
burning beneath that critical mass
essential to braise landscapes
turn hydrogen into helium.

Play the tea kettle lively. You are
energy without reason to cure
with plates of steamed clams
gathered from the vestibule
of the cathedral where April
waits with everyman’s revival.

Refreshed, ride up to Triton,
do not land in oceans of ripe methane;
Avoid long passage on the rip tides
but watch the sun finely distant
measured as a pinch of stars
lonely for light.




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My poetry can be read at http://seanfarragher.com