An original poem.


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i cannot find you. you have hidden your-

self too well in the sand. while i look at

the milky way you burrow into the lore

of the greeks preserved in arabic. that

was discovered in the middle ages.

my stars and your equations point the way

to mecca. i have read in your pages

the dreams, but my stars have existed may-

be even before god though of your place.

these starry palaces are home to gods

and other dreams. distant suns of orange

and blue fill my thoughts. there is nothing odd

in having three suns. if gods could arrange

for more stars, my dreams could build a palace.










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An excerpt from A Chorus of Voices
by Kurt Messick
Dry Bones Press, February 2003