Aliens

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Standing on my midnight Sinai,
I fish deep into the milky way.
My hook descends among the meteors
Sinks past gravity’s grasp
And snags on the flowing tail of a solar flare.
The line snaps tight, and I am hooked—
pulled upward through the black sky and splashed deep into the cosmic tide.
I let go of the spinning reel and float lost.

I cannot capture the Void above—
I am not the fisherman,
I am the fish, hook in mouth
tempting Heaven with a bony meal.

I drift into the net of a crouching Nebula,
And die for a time in His starry creel.
The Dust tinkers with my blood
and readies me for release and revolution
in the electric streams below.

I hold tight to the wire as He lowers me back down.

I cannot look ahead anymore,
only up,
craning my neck for another glimpse
of the Man waiting for us behind the sun.

I believe in Aliens now,
because I have become one.
A human being no longer owns this body,
That Dust flows though my veins,
into my finger tips and eyes

and now I see that I am not alone.





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