Simple Theories

  The ancient Greeks, vigilantly ancient, labeled planets as wandering stars. Planet can also be translated—free as you are—as  galloping hoplite , suggesting instant remand or language as betterment. Just find between spaces between spaces for the perfect word. Like all ancients up till this very day, the Greeks looked to the skies for clues. So much breezeway in the wherewithal of looking. Because the Greeks did that so did the Romans, and other cultures before machines started talking. The planets pitched about more than stars did and looked brighter up there so better stories unfolded. Note bold blink of Venus, dawn or dusk, and Botticelli has been busy. King of Roman gods shines vast as speck. Blood red Mars endures as notion net loss across the tractor beam. Pluto aka Death is surely there, known but not well seen. And you read wild language fabulations, literary contrails imagined in the genuine dark. Dark remains the strictest beacon as you watch.

  Commonly called milkweed, this fervid plant also goes by the name Asclepius, with a trundling list of species names addended. In the days of Greek, the real thing, Asclepius was a god without benefits, just like you. No thunderbolt tricks, no shape-changing swan sex. Asclepius boringly earned renown, aside from being Apollo’s son, from mere knowledge in medical healing. Of course his father killed Asclepius’ mother because god but saved the infant in her womb also because god. So we have a story and a franchise. Asclepius found weeds less worthless than you do, and learned to use nature things with which to concoct cures or simple calming, Mojo Hand and John the Conqueroo until blended, tho in Greek. Sway insofar as butterflies enjoy the trick of flowers open elemental. Meanwhile becomes broadcloth, then the milkweed pod files exploding floating seeds to sail and mean. You have watched the patient wind-caressed dogged plea oblivion. The seeds float and fluctuate knowing nothing as mu