The U Fifty-Five Ten Forty-Six
Was my means to space
Knowing it was worth the risk
From the ground up at the ship I laughed before standard takeoff procedure
I knew where I was going
And I had all that I would need there
My suite filled with oxygen
  From the umbilical cord of the craft
And my mind filled with thoughts of them
How I’m never going back

  In my swamp of space
  My sandbox and womb
  I became the unspoken face
And the son of the moon

Everything in this world
Is condemned to music and poetry
Every sound is vibration and vibration
Is music
Every visual can be felt and
Held accountable by words
-words are poetry
And I am a troll
a clown
and a student
And I am the strangest
That I’ve ever been
-and I can prove it

Sleeping in the aisle
With the island on idle
Above looked of callused pewter

Impregnated tile
My Alice, stay awhile
If only my words could dilute her

Telephone poles become the earth’s rulers for how far we’ve gone
Another trip
Another travel
Another tower
I’ve grown fond
Of every face that I’ve witnessed passing through glass
Between sponges of green
And each spectrum’s mast

The moon is made of human skin
Freaks and inmates
The fish’s fin
Fine wine dinning
Mountainous hoard
This is where these things
Are stored