
Compassionate Zone
Streaks of color in the sky — can it be the blood of angels? The sky itself — can it be the breath of…
How can we not admire
emptiness especially when it’s
pregnant with superlative Light?
Explosively thrilling in its opening of our
perceptions from toe-tips to galactic
distances more numerous than
sand grains in a colossal
stretch of beach
that turns inside-out instantaneously
this world and all its gala self-
advertisements
to an interior smoother than conch-shell’s
mother of pearl and
more radiant than all of underwater
Neptune’s kingdom of diamond thrones and
glittering tridents of purest porphyry
10/15/2011 (from The Match That Becomes a Conflagration)
(drawing by author)
Categories: Poems
Write a Comment