Michael McGuire Alpha Centauri
The light that is not symbol, that is the fuel of vision burning, the
hungry atmosphere, protective prism school of yearning, star lit light
bulb charged, particles pumping desire, alone in a crowd of undoing,
charred bones of a leftover fire, as lonely as a telescope, pointed at the
desert of stars, a vacant gold rush bank, the highways art of abandon
cars, illustrated meaning of nowhere, the vapor trail of a dream, the
shadows are a guide, where the light is a theme.
It’s like a thought you can see reflected in the eyes of a stranger who
passes you on the street like a window in the architecture, the wind of
heavens ride pollinates the cracks in the sidewalk and the dirty
distance but forsakes the meanings pulp, lonely puppet empire of
habit stands for the ovation as the actor playing a doctor points the
finger at the moon, something; possible everything teases the reach of
an astrophysicists who can’t seem to get his mind off something his
wife said about occult diet, it’s all like some out of focus photograph
that looks more interesting for it’s flaws than it’s subject in perfection
could ever fawn, extinct colors pour a boneless rainbow on a region of
the sky that has only known the unsolicited pout of impotent rain , a
sign that were getting closer to something that is so far away that the
closer we get the further away we are, and the exhaust of invention
fogs the lens of destiny and the stranded survivors glance suspiciously
at each others motive heart.
This is our monument to what we can only deconstruct in dream, the
light from the nearest star is just the spent treasure of unrequited
steam, on this cloudless night a man looks up into the weathered
darkness of the sky, and he can’t even tell it’s a cloudless night so he
doesn’t even begin to wonder why, just one thought ago a chaos was
born thru the silent center fault, now a ghost lights palatial
foundations where the god of corners is not found but ever sought, we
calculate the meaning of our motion with the stacked math of destiny,
this light we chase can’t even give us heat yet we think it will help us
see.
