Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two…
one… and then ignition, and white fire,
to attack the wall of air, and pass through
to realms where inertia meets desire
and things in motion remain in motion,
and resting objects tend to stay at rest,
except where soul and mind give direction
to bring bodies to the lands of the blest.
Go out, voyager: seek your heart’s abode.
Take bearings from the second star at left,
and seek out the Lost Dutchman’s mother lode…
but find your own course. “Houston, we have lift-
off,” and ship will pull away from the pier,
seeking a path that you alone will steer.
Composed at the Billy Goat Beanery,
Worcester, MA, 24 August 2004 CE
for the Frantic Rabbit Reading