New poem from the “Beyond” series.


I awake covered in red dust
after the storm passed.

In the depths of the crater
the sun shone dimly over the edge.

I see you left without me
moving beyond the fractured surface.

There is no blame.
There is now only me.

Beyond the mountains
the sun rises on a new day.

Surrounded by unnamed peaks,
unclimbed by humans, I head off into the void.

The last time I exit the empty field,
crossing over the still black water
will be the last day in this flesh.

On the other side the machines
wait with steely patience
where they have stood for years.

When we next awaken from what seems like a dream
we will be near the base of Mons Olympus
at the start of the next life.

Random Thoughts of Mars, life, its origination

Steeped in science fiction stories and the books of lore.

On a peaceful and sunny day, scattered clouds thin
I looked at the sky toward things I could not
physically see and pictured you, dear Mars.

The center of attention.

Ancient questions of the human race surface
with renwed vigor and attention.

How did we get here?
Where did we come from?

I look at my whitish skin
tinged red from too much time
in the sun and imagine laying
outside on Mars.

I look at my whitish skin
tinged red from too much time
in the sun and imagine my
ancestors roaming the Martian
surface.

Childhood thoughts were consumed by destruction
a pending nuclear winter and the sublime
greyish ash painting the landscape.

Dreams night after night of orange
mushrooms before the fallout.

Where would we go?

This poisoned planet will one day
banish us from its surface.

Where will we go?

The red plant holds slim promise, so
we send machines impervious to the years-long
flight, adjustments, extreme heat and cold,
and the potential fatal landing within an
approximate location.

Eyes glued and breath held as images beam back to us
after minutes of anticipation.

We have arrived.

Are we welcome?

A beautiful and peaceful evening in MN with 70s and the sun low in the sky, casting light beams through the moon-shapped windows.

I have been listening and reading about the Mars rovers and partaking in my own speculation as to what they may find.  This is proving to be quite inspirational for new poems and an extension to my philosophical beliefs.  Harkening back to the ancient questions of where did we come from and how did we get here, Mars has become not only a backdrop to the story, but a central character.

As Stone Path Review, we have begun to read our second book-length collection of poems, a spiritual text, for possible publication.