Night Drifted Through Heaps Of White Stars

spilling into space where a billion light years
yearned for understanding
but not possible, the tender mind
too fragile to witness even ordinary death
without that famous promise
but more than grains of sand or leaves
these stars burning and burning
into a final bit of frozen dust drifting
all this before souls wept
and I never could believe that either
as a gust of wind blasted out of the North.
I felt cold.
It would snow here
long before it ever snowed in Brooklyn.

by Charles Chaim Wax

Comments (2)

i find sometimes that the language in your characterless/plotless poems isn't enough to hold the poem up and the poem becomes in danger of becoming something dry without personality, but this is certainly an exception. the counterbalance lines that made it for me were 'and I never could believe that either', and 'i felt cold.' i don't know when you wrote all these poems, but if you're writing them as you post them then from where i'm standing i'd say your skills are possibly getting more finely tuned by the month.
the infinite, incomprehensible neither mythical promise nor science providing answers for you that bulwark against the cold the penquins of PH, huddle for heat and sing to pass the time nice song.