GALACTIC TAX

All this talk about neutrons and big lies
the explosion of stars and everything is questionable
even the rules-- but what does that matter
when the sky practices pulling on a taut skin
of blue ocean each morning changing it
for the pinholes of stars
when indigo leaks from the quiet summer
splendor of chikory by the dusty roadside  
and the sky is a dome
where Venus and Jupiuter burn holes
inro our consciousness as if there were no handholds
left upon this earth to hang a frail poem without words
at the debut of the first star each night
Venus eclipsed by the moon
Mercury too low on the horizon to see
an alien planet in the evening sky
I want to shoot holes in the Big Bang Theory
because my family spends time in the west
prospecting for musically honest pulsars
to peddle in the miserly warehouses
and bazaars of the spectrum
while I hunt for neutron stars
with my optical telescope
I sometimes nibble on sweetmeats
and sherbet madse by white dwarfs
and red giants
but the turbanned vulture of Allah
took all my dinars and jewels
of the spectrum
and I honestly can't say,
what universe we'll prospect next for dreams
because the radio telescope was reposessed
by the Crab Nebulae of the
Inter Galactic Revenue Service

date? saved 7/15/1994
probably a CPITS exercise
same date as Duncan Garrett poem