HERE ON THIS PLANET 

This poem was created using imagery from the collage experiment in the Constellations workshop in collaboration with QWF’s members for the One Planet, Countless Worlds project. Two digital artists have crafted a digital poem based on this imagery collected across the 2 workshops.

Here, on this planet, there is a diffuse nebula, a fossilized sea lily, and yellow ice. 

There is sand, misty foam, and wisps of cloud. The air is crisp, and there is a winding rocky coastline. I can feel this place bare on the soles of my feet. There are black tar bubbles and luscious green trees. Hell’s Gate is covered over by a kidney of green, and I can see the wooden wave streaming. The sky is “pink barbe-a-papa” Voie lactée, only made up of fruit diamond stars. Though it is a contained world, it still refuses its own boundaries. There are geological imperfections. Day and night exist in parallel. 

Here, on this planet, there is a thumb-sized orange sun positioned in a goodly frame. Fire explodes over the dark horizon. A corner of this planet reminds me of the sandy beaches of Donegal. On the other side of the messy shore, past the craters, the reddish earth and the sun-warmed stones, I go looking for the colour blue. Lit by the soup of a purple nouveau moon, I turn past a flock of rosy flamingos and a crop of giant pastel flowers. There is the sound of a brook.  Suddenly, I remember home: jack pines in the wind, saw-edge grass, the summer verandah, the butcher’s window, the park, the clothesline, a car starting, a baby crying, forward momentum, snow, and a rushing dog. I keep walking past the waterfall that flows into a black hole. The trees and the vegetation become unrecognizable. The sun runs low on the horizon. I find it- the colour blue-under metres of moss.