just because there’s nothing there doesn’t mean that nothing’s happened

I’m always open to changing my mind because my mind is always changing, man crows the cocky, gleaming stone in the sky—a smirking, cyclopic Mack closing in through steel wool cirrus rimming dark rows of bones like an ashen horseshoe descending from space but paused near the peaks of purgatorial trees ‘cuz its thrusters ran low two wormholes ago, where it met not with glorious, knee-bending welcomes but wagons of war & melees with locals that chased the space Spaniards back to their warship & up into orbit with just enough juice left to reach their next target—yet while moonrays scream like a runaway train & the space rock bellows these times, they’re a-changin’, things feel strangely & calmly the same.

Stephen Ground is a writer and filmmaker based in Treaty Six Territory, Edmonton, Alberta.

A Song for Stephen