Aberrant heaven, an erratic, throbbing orb,
cataclysmic casualties light-years divorced,
eternities in defiant glances beyond the grief
guaranteed our hard-bitten time on this earth.
Intervals of luminosity from the edges, a hadj
keened through the ink of kohl, the cosmic whorl
mucking up dreams and dreads, our vision
oppressed as this muddle of finite sky-map.
Questions of quiddities, scourge and maker,
stillborn as glimpsed pulses long extinct,
undulating nonetheless, deplorable improv,
wanton mission with the impermanence of wax.
Yesteryears, ancient stars, and all that glitz.

—Scott Wiggerman