060320

sneaking over

to Cylinder Reservoir

space dipping

062319b

there is something missing
some element, or enzyme, or bacterium
the plants are dying
they have sun, they have water,
they have all the minerals we know to give them
but they wither, turn brown,
break apart and blow way
on the artificial breeze

If Earth still lived
and there were agronomists
maybe the problem could be solved
before we were all gone

As it is
this is the last space habitat
soon we will be eating each other
and then no one will be left
unless bacteria still live
miles below the surface
of our murdered planet

060319d

crabgrass
gains a foothold
habitat 1

rigorous precautions
taken at the spaceport

Purple spider wort
nods beneath each window
worse: my dog has fleas

050519b

Habitation

4K outside, 312K inside

windows fogged, leaf plastered,

vines reach and mould creeps,

yams and avocado rampant,

huts overthrown,

Lagrangia revolves with its battered world.

It's a jungle in there

012019d

Jack of the Green

Green Jack dances in the tilted meadow

when darkness falls.

The windows overhead are blocked,

but the sun is shining on fields of flowers

on the other side of the river.

How he got there no one knows.

Perhaps he stowed away wrapped around a lily bulb,

pressed between the pages of a treasured scrapbook,

or in a packet of carrot seeds brought

from the old country by a small child.

Since he came, the plants are thriving,

which formerly languished in their new home,

the stalks are taller, more sturdy, the

flowers bigger and the colors brighter,

In Lagrangia now that Jack is here.

A Lagrangian Poem

habitat fall


deciduous clouds: crimson, gold
englobe each tree in autumn
drift slowly out to kiss
dirt's thin carpet
now gravity's gone


End