The Science of Astronomy


 

 

 

 

 

This cannot be all my life comes to,
a clarion call in almost waking; the shout,
get up, get up now
there are things you must do before
the next transition takes its place, this
time is yours, and not a grocery list
of complaints or injustices but the way
neither slip equates to my non-existent
bank account: up, donkey

I hear the yell to wake wondering did
Shakespeare himself gather what he
would from books as well, then from
five centuries on will the poet ache
with reading until almost a half century mark
before the next beginning or art? If by
committee, yes to tepid knowledge.

But hardly in the doing itself. Songs must
sing like Dylan Thomas reciting, or Irving
Layton doing a reading. Poema, poema,
the blood sings through the scars
from which you bleed light having nothing
to do with the science of astronomy, or stars.

©Dean J. Baker

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