53
Why would I lie when I can just be wrong? / I've fallen off course, drifted from orbit. / I'm here, paddling, pushing off the stray neutrinos, / casting excess weight out of the airlock, / asphyxiating and decompressing, / but more afraid of the nearing planet, / Earth, mundane, mud dispelled from Saturn's rings, / to the sun, as soulless as a magnet, / cracked, tossed in dust, in sorrow's second look, / made know noledgeable of the know nown. / As bereft of birth's promise as spit. / Wouldn't you rather have a fool, a clown, / than a bashful liar, faithless, untrue? / But actually, you're crazy, aren't you?
originally published in Pen Poetry Series