poem for some
of the closer planets


& being implausible, the mark
at which the mirror

a circle of deep attention
& an edge

of rounded glass; seal now,
in the unbound snow

of starry residue

a clear night clear the language
at the speed of light

& passing cars; the speed of sound,
what whisper

would a pinpoint make

gas giants or a planet stone,
surround moon scars & rocky rings