the world is worth all the stars

(August 2022. Camped out at Williams Fork near Kremmling, Colorado. Spent all day in silence writing Fiction of the Nation and Broke Again. Wrote this in my phone notes at night.)

the world is worth all the stars
and they are mine
not because i own them
but because i pull on them
and because they pull on me
in a relationship, a responsibility
which is so much richer than possession

one day i will understand the secret of the dialectic
between infinite blank space and the first point

and how the summer triangle points clearly in a direction
many depending on how you look at it
and if you imagine the tip of cassiopoiea as the true long point of the triangle
then a whole new vision of a centroid emerges

and you realize there are as many directions to go
as there are connections between stars