I'm a lazy poet. I just sort of journal short lines as an emotional release. I don't put the kind of effort into it that I put into my novels. So here's one about the photo that NASA just released of the rover tracks in the crater up there on Mars:
Tracks in the sand
Across a trackless waste
Gravel and rock
Drier than the driest desert
Colder than the coldest winter
A busy robot
Preoccupied with tasks
Programmed by busy people
Unaware of the silence
Unaware of the quintessential emptiness
Driving from nowhere to nowhere
In a crater
Surrounded by mountains
Looking for?
Life? Can you really think it's there?
Water? As if any water
Could mitigate that emptiness
That silence, that lack
Of what makes a planet
Into a home
Do we really think
There can be any other home?
Do we really think
There can be another terra?
Do we really think
That is a picture
Of anything other than
Loneliness?
Driving from nowhere
To nowhere
Busy with tasks
That seem so futile
A robotic vehicle
Alone.
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