I believe in Black Holes,
In the bending of spacetime,
The impossibility of escape
From the event horizon.
I believe in what is found
In Black Holes,
In what inches forth
From the sound of
Silence emerging,
The door that opens
To a thousand other doors.
I believe in supermassive
Black Holes
Spirited out of spacetime
Into the throb of
Vortices cast into darkness,
Into the womb of spacetime,
A Hole so Black,
Its issue qualifies
As life itself,
Invisible as nothing.
I believe in Black Holes.
A retired educator living in a small town in Eastern Oregon, Jack Lorts is published in Arizona Quarterly, English Journal, and Agnostic Lobster, Fishtrap, among others. Author of three chapbooks, The Daughter Poems & Others… & The Meeting-Place of Words, (Pudding House), and Dear Gilbert Sorrentino & Other Poems from Finishing Line Press. Active in local and state Democratic politics, he served as Mayor of Fossil, Oregon for many years.
