Astral Projection

it never seems
to be

time

it’s easy to disappear

here or there

I don’t remember
exactly

where

I eat the dream

the luster of future

years shimmer
away

the light is so different here

I never seem to be

who I say I am

a vibrational absence

molten time

seeping from

each being

in the house made of dawn

stormed dusk

collapsing

in the refracted skyline

a name

slips

into history

inside the paint is peeling

you can still hear the music

the sun

what will the legacy be

when it is excavated

what are the prayers

in the sovereign ego

in the metaphysical scandal of capital

the last of the plans

was that you

was that me

reaching out into the static

into the live-in deserts

the face gets blurry

dissipates

in the aeonic

the future is an exoplanetary

you fragment into you

slip through your fingers like flowers

a song dissolved in the dawn

in all of our heaviness

forgetting we
are made of light

ancient and full of magic

I went out again

past the umber decades

scattered in atmosphere

to find possible tomorrows

searching for bright

until everyone is a piece of everything

Robert Balun is an adjunct at The City College of New York, where he teaches creative writing and composition. His poems have recently appeared in TAGVVERK, Tammy, Prelude, Barrow Street, Poor Claudia, Apogee, Cosmonauts Avenue, and others.