a cosmic sonnet

If fusty galaxies twirl like Shakespearian poetry, is astrology a tragedy or a comedy? Are there clusters of uppercase in outer space, the remnants of metaphors that broke up like meteors? My universe is full of orphaned verse, and perverse alien names all have hyphens. Quatrains swirl across the ecliptic plane, and sonnets streak by like comets. Argh! Where’s a pencil - too late - the thought’s gone. Ever lose something essential - cause you couldn’t find a pencil? It’s ok though, it’s not just me and not just you. Black holes are swallowing Haiku too. . . Songs for this: Hypnotized by Fleetwood Mac Theme for a Nude Beach by The B-52's . . I saw a line with something like, “universe of orphaned verse,” in a poem a few days ago. The idea of celestial words rhyming with writing terms ‘mused’ me. I’ve been looking for the author to credit them (hello, computer searches). If you know the guilty party, please let me know. . . *No, this is NOT a sonnet, it’s just the name