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my brother,      
I dig your spaceship.    
I think your engine      
is tuned and timed      
just fine      
and I admire how your airwaves      
are rode a bit different than mine      
yet the space seems      
to have blessed      
us both      
     
oh, little sister      
your magnets guide      
our stars to song.      
Shake for me woman      
let the heat-death of my universe      
pressurize carbon to crumble      
into sparkles pretty enough      
to adorn your limbs      
     
father,      
your silence      
and rough hands say more      
to elegance and subtlety      
than any art.      
 
I still pick flowers for my sister      
you were right      
it's best to keep her brightened      
     
mama,      
if my love said anything more      
than I'm sorry      
my page would be washed out      
in tears.