How small do you feel,
When you see all the large stars?..
Space
There’s something out there,
Amongst the gas, dust, and fire…
Do you think he’d try,
To launch himself to the sun…
Poetry is the space between looking at the clock
and falling asleep, the time that does not exist
because you cannot mark it. You cannot alibi
yourself. In that space, you are. In that time,
you cannot prove it.