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1<!DOCTYPE html> 1<!DOCTYPE html>
2<!-- Template for compiled 'Autocento' documents --> 2<!-- AUTOCENTO OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE -->
3<!-- vim: fdm=indent -->
3<html lang="en"> 4<html lang="en">
4<head> 5<head>
5 <meta charset="utf-8"> 6 <meta charset="utf-8">
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23 <!-- <script src="js/external.js"> </script> --> 24 <!-- <script src="js/external.js"> </script> -->
24 </head> 25 </head>
25<body> 26<body>
27
28 <article id="container">
29 <header>
30 <!-- title -->
31 <h1 class="title">On seeing the panorama of the Apollo 11 landing site</h1>
32
26 33
27<article id="container"> 34 </header>
28 <header>
29 <!-- title -->
30 <h1 class="title">On seeing the panorama of the Apollo 11 landing site</h1>
31
32
33
34 </header>
35
36 <section class="content verse">
37 <p>So it’s the <a href="deathstrumpet.html">fucking moon</a>. Big deal. As if<br />you haven’t seen it before, hanging in the sky<br />like a piece of <a href="roughgloves.html">rotten meat</a> nailed to the wall,</p>
38 <p>a maudlin love letter (the i’s dotted with <a href="proverbs.html">hearts</a>)<br />tacked to the sky’s door like ninety-eight theses.<br />Don’t stare at it like it means anything.</p>
39 <p>Don’t give it the chance to collect meaning<br />from your hand like an old pigeon. Don’t dare ascribe<br />it a will, or call it fickle, or think it has any say</p>
40 <p>in your affairs. It’s separated from your life<br />by three hundred eighty-four thousand miles of space,<br />the same distance you stepped away from time that night</p>
41 <p>you said your love was broken, a crippled gyroscope<br />knocking in the dark. It was then that time fell apart,<br />had a nervous breakdown and started following you</p>
42 <p>everywhere, moonfaced, always asking where you’re going.<br />You keep trying to get away from it but it nuzzles closer<br />and sings you songs that sound like the cooing of a dove<br />that will only escape again into an empty sky at dawn.</p>
43 </section>
44</article>
45 35
36 <section class="content verse">
37 <p>So it’s the <a href="deathstrumpet.html">fucking moon</a>. Big deal. As if<br />you haven’t seen it before, hanging in the sky<br />like a piece of <a href="roughgloves.html">rotten meat</a> nailed to the wall,</p>
38 <p>a maudlin love letter (the i’s dotted with <a href="proverbs.html">hearts</a>)<br />tacked to the sky’s door like ninety-eight theses.<br />Don’t stare at it like it means anything.</p>
39 <p>Don’t give it the chance to collect meaning<br />from your hand like an old pigeon. Don’t dare ascribe<br />it a will, or call it fickle, or think it has any say</p>
40 <p>in your affairs. It’s separated from your life<br />by three hundred eighty-four thousand miles of space,<br />the same distance you stepped away from time that night</p>
41 <p>you said your love was broken, a crippled gyroscope<br />knocking in the dark. It was then that time fell apart,<br />had a nervous breakdown and started following you</p>
42 <p>everywhere, moonfaced, always asking where you’re going.<br />You keep trying to get away from it but it nuzzles closer<br />and sings you songs that sound like the cooing of a dove<br />that will only escape again into an empty sky at dawn.</p>
43 </section>
44 </article>
46 <nav> 45 <nav>
47 <a class="prevlink" href="and.html" 46 <a class="prevlink" href="and.html"
48 title="Next article in Elegies for alternate selves"> 47 title="Next article in Elegies for alternate selves">
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54 Ars poetica 53 Ars poetica
55 </a> 54 </a>
56 </nav> 55 </nav>
57</body> 56 </body>
58</html> 57</html>