fallslikesnow

    The lines inscribed on the command module wall meandered, drifted up and down, broke off abruptly and resumed as if halting for breath. From some angles they appeared meaningless scribbles but looked at correctly they resolved into long strings of transcribed speech. "I saw boiling water spilled on an ants nest, insects by the hundred scattering in chaos …" "It was the last day of November, dead leaves caught in a localized whirlwind, a storm of leaves under a lead gray sky …" "Sometimes I would focus on tiny aspects of larger systems -- loading the dishwasher would become a huge task, surrounded by a maze of options that had to be traversed …" Wilson flicked two switches, part of the Lunar Insertion Burn checklist. Short aluminum stems capped with plastic they clicked satisfyingly under his fingers. Green lights under dull covers came on. Wilson returned to the dark grey on grey streams of writing. There was something comforting about the uninterrupte

 

 

The Sky Those who love the azure sky, beautiful Limitless, a place for the soul to play Should know that the sky they see is a lie A cover for the glories behind, that The horizon is too low, a jagged Cheapened line carrying far too much Sky, far too much weight, unlike the past The Cliffs There were cliffs so high they curved above us Striped with geology so old, so rich It had no names, not even those of the Miners who died in the winding holes they Dug into the cliff walls, holes to the sky Rapidly closing as the rubble falls Behind the miner who looks over His shoulder, drops his pick, sees darkness fall And outside, on the cliff face, another un-named dot appears, revenge of the cliff The Cities There were cities up there, intricately Carved into living rock, up and down a Thousand feet, fifteen feet deep, elegant Homes, one room after another, shallow Caverns containing formal gardens, scents Of mountain flowers drifting over rocks that Were encrusted with lichen, pale gray, rose