Out in the kitchen chowder bubbles
in the old pot, the recipe
not mine but spiced with all cooking
before me, and at my desk, cup
of cometary water, pencil and draft,
I play with half a million years
of knowledge—my inheritance.
The window leaks night until
I slip along an axis in dark space
toward the riddle of infinity—
any direction will do—
never getting any closer.
From: http://www.astropoetica.com/Summer07/homosapiens.htm
Date: 2007
By: Peggy Miller (19??- )