If it is true that when we look out to space, we are really looking in- to the past, why don’t we do it more often?
This question is posed to the deck amongst family in adirondack chairs and sits amongst us briefly before we terrestrials agree on consulting The Oracle of our time: Google.
Which, in stunted exposition, tells us: Bent constructs give way to new sky. Space constricts; time slows. Spans of forgetfulness coalesce and Spectrum-blind, a strand of hair is mistaken for the head itself. Space expands; travel.
(Time, as it happens, accelerates not the hands of the clock but our experience of them.)
An arms length, ursa minor from one another, we suppose and recline in- to a position of zero gravity, unearthed and equidistant to annular openings, exposed to the aether.
We suppose there is logic. We suppose there is something, definitely.
Then, attaching syllables to fire, we suppose.
Kirsten Shu-ying Chen is currently pursuing her MFA in Poetry at The New School. She founded the artist collective “BTP” and works closely with Powerline, a platform for civic engagement.
Edited by Zack Reeves.
The featured image is "Messier 7” courtesy of NASA.