Probe

I read today about a probe
sent out to Pluto and then beyond
So distant, so far from where it began
So cold, so far from the warmth of the sun
So small, alone in that infinite vastness...

And then I look over at you
and know that the distance between you and I
in this small room
is greater by far.
And it is so cold here
that words freeze before they are heard.
And I realize that
inevitably and inexorably you are
growing further apart from me.
And the distance between us
throws that trip to Pluto
into insignificance.

Soon you will be gone too far,
a tiny speck in my memory.
A small flickering star
where warmth used to be.

Another Summer Haiku

Summertime - such heat!
Makes even the smallest breeze
seem like such a treat.

Deep Dive

You're diving on a wasted wreck
a ship whose sailing days are done,
lying on this reef, just a pile of dreck,
of no possible use to anyone.

Sudden storms sank it ages ago,
cracked its mast and tore off the sail.
Now it lies on the bottom, far below,
wearing seaweed like a mourner's veil.

Just how deep you would have to go
to find any speck of treasure...
that answer is something I do not know,
it is a distance beyond my measure.

It is best just to let it be,
let it lie on the ocean floor,
there is nothing left that could set it free.
It won't be sailing the sea anymore.

Imayō

You are a soft breeze
And I am a silver chime
That finds a purpose
Every time you pass near me.

Home Improvement

today would seem to be the perfect day 

to paint these walls in shades of pink and gray

doing it's as easy as pointing a gun

raise your hand, pull the trigger and it's done

that's all it would take to improve this room

to erase the doldrums, remove the gloom

one simple motion would cover it all...

...and spread my brains over this empty wall

then there'd be no mystery about me

every thought would be there for you to see

right up there in brilliant streaks of pink

is every thought I took the time to think

every word I said, everything that I knew

all of the things that I believed were true

like hieroglyphs inside an ancient tomb

my thoughts would cover the walls of this room

and when everyone that had called me friend

sees their stories through to the bitter end

when there is no one left that can explain

then my thoughts will be just an old gray stain