Artificial Galaxies

In the creases of deepest space, the sky is ablaze with light: fat galaxies, thin galaxies, barred galaxies, ring galaxies, new galaxies, old galaxies, hot

Beneath an Iron Sky

In the irascible search for life the faint twinkling of distant stars expose giant globes of gaseous ferocity; their inferred magnitude drifting too close to

Stellar Snow

Beneath pristine packs of southern snow Echoes of a violent past lay scattered; Lost amongst the landscape like fragments Of half-remembered, ancient dreams, These imprints

The Dance of the Dung Beetle

A sharp aroma seeps across the sky, You scurry to its source; Working quickly to carefully craft A sustaining sphere of pungent spice. With cargo

A River of Stars

A dynasty of diamonds in the sky, You stretch beyond the hemispheres of sight Scattering stardust like lavish silt as Unseen tidal forces conspire to

Stellar Nurseries

Within the cradle of a burning core, You wither down and find yourself well worn; As untold pressures crush and shape and bore, Your substance

Ghostly Galaxies

When looking out into the starry night The blackness that we see is just a mask; This shrouded veil conceals our darkest light,   And

New Life in Hostile Winds

Cast out by winds too fierce to call a home, You sail on seas unbearable to roam; The fury of this interstellar gale Ensured an

An Interstellar Climate

The final act of some forgotten star, Unleashes unseen light at breakneck speed; And once these cosmic rays have journeyed far, Into our atmosphere they

Is This the End?

Is this the end of everything you were? A burst of light, a hurried, fractious blur. The final breath into the distant night, Reminding us