In the latest of hours,
once the moon has set
and all is stars and velvet,
I lie alone
and turn the radio dial
to see who’s still up.
Between the static murmurs
come the all night talk shows
with their ghosts and aliens,
or the basso jazz DJ
spinning Miles of Coltrane.
But sometimes everyone
is asleep but me,
and I just lie still
with the radio tuned
to nothing at all,
letting the hisses and crackles
of far off galaxies
carry me away,
beyond the cusp
of the hemisphere,
all the way back
to the start of time.