1 min readFeb 24, 2020


We live on the arm of a spiral

Far from the heart of our Milky Way

An ordinary yellow star alone

Waits to be swallowed by its center

Let go to ride with solar winds

Direct me to your will

Spiral toward the edge

My black hole, forgiven

Where nothing is forgotten

Where rusty fancy dancers

With ulcers in their bellies

With sores on their soles

Meet their end in style