Seedstars

at the final presentation,

the slippery share screen feature

fumbles across a field of nerves.

the host, an energetic blanket

over angular pods of pre-school curiosity

before the schooling of modern life.

the wisdom of shallow breath

in the deep,

listening with a quiet body.


The haven of Thursdays

in the chapel of Pluto,

sermoning each other into being.

we are all satellites.

flight protocols beamed at us

guiding our systems.


there is a seat here for you too,

dear friend.

would you like the manual?

to take direction

from the invisible light

does that sound nice?

a longing for the swell life

precision swerve

spaceless flotation infinitely timed.