shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Stephen M. Dickey



LOOK AT ALL THE STARS... And us, born aground
under a dim constellation called Ghost-
: we're cast off, ever homeward bound,
lost in the thimblerigs we suffer most—

Order and Chaos. Even kids at play
sent bikes coasting downhill to crash in weeds
riderless, spokes spinning in disarray,
in waning orbits no creator needs.

An interstellar space lurked in that splice
of life, in which our hopes come interwoven
with real-time snake eyes sightless on the dice.

Indeed our very selves come out as cloven,
and wobbling handlebars steer us to factor
in death, life's plainly astral, strange attractor.