Category Archives: imagination

Secondary Soul (from the Time Capsule)

as far as she
        shines
flyeth she
   till a wall
wherein she’ll penetrate
curiously and see
          behind
to the next wall

how she might
despair
        fantasizing
great flocks
         of dust mold’d
with space
to a clay
      ever confusing
      and reidentifying

I’m born
                I live
I die
(suppos’dly)
Something’s before
                         during
                              and after
             me
(suppos’dly)

          but
of myself a part
has always been
   I
      of Everything

or is Everything
               Me?

for Now
…perhaps

Windows

congenial black holes
welcome mats to mysteries

perhaps th’ other side
of the world
or th’ universe
or another time

or a looking glass
from unseen eyes
curious of us

at our sadness
about what was so much more
in its youth

about our wonderment
at its aging gracefully
by Nature’s witching wand

After the Rain

                                           one Morn cherish’d I
                                           when Mother Earth
                                           step’d from her shower
                                           don’d her favorite robe
                                           and invit’d Half Moon
                                           to have breakfast
                                           with the Sun and Me

brook

                                         be drawn our eyes
                                         to thy voice

                                         a caravan
                                         of seemingly diverse chatter

                                         but spellbinding
                                         to our sanity
                                         with wondrous reverie

limitless

                                        eyes overwhelm’d
                                        by Heaven’s chandeliers—
                                        minds challeng’d
                                        by roofless Night

                                        yet what of microcopics
                                       and their microscopics?
                                       a universe in a drop
                                       of Nothingness

                                      Beginning and End
                                      found in empty baskets
                                      on Time’s doorstep—
                                      a trial of credence