Thursday, February 25, 2010




I got this far only to find out

I was too far gone.

No way back.

No way on.

I think I’ll just stay here

like a continental shelf

that keeps falling off

the edge of itself.

Life’s absurd I know.

Life’s deeper than sorrow

and higher than joy.

The past of the old man

was the future of the boy.

When space and time divide

into one discontinuum

who’s the widow

who’s the bride?

And then there’s the dark.

And then there’s the light.

Is the moon two goddesses

in one gown?

Master the loser

and the winner is bound.

I keep my nightface

turned toward the stars.

The other’s eating flowers.

God may be cutting

but she’s not malignant.

Little we see in nature that is ours.

That’s why I look at the stars.

Space is pregnant

with gravitational eyes

of dark matter

that can see into the heart of things.

And time’s a proud father.

And it’s a toss-up

between a mirror and a lense

whether time resembles you

in the way you look upon the world

or you’re the spitting image

of an ancestral abyss.

This is perfect.

That is perfect.

Take perfect from perfect

it’s still perfect.

I’m in the presence

of all the things I miss.