lens of god

at the stretches / vast edges of the universe
touching blurry cusps of existence
life wriggles from behind a telescope
and sits down at the desk
to write. in this moment
evidence of a beauty
(who has gone
away.)
	bending with the curve
of time. the secrets of the moon.
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candy of the soul

wandering star don't let the dust fool you,
it's always the view from afar that sees
spectacle in your mess --

but isn't that what the beauty of life is?

the perspective

from here,
behind a telescope lens

you shimmer
and dazzle sweet sprinkles
the kinds that make candy of the soul

glazed window into the heavens
the lens is specked
with colours unseen

peacock flume, your wispy arms scarlet, crimson
ultra violet waltz,
pink pearl cotton
atmosphere

amid your shakeless pirouette
a green only known as life

what would you be on earth i cannot say
only that
you are what the robins and bees
prefer 

a touch of heat

i come here to write and only
i don't really know why
but sometimes there is a feeling
deep in the pit of my gut

and what results when i put finger to key
or pen to page
is simply some approximation of greatness
just a sliver, a hair, a microscopic granular
diamond...


it's moments like these that have me wonder
if we really are the image of God-
but a fingerprint, a shape,
a chemi-coded, oil outline
of three dimensions...


a touch of heat in the darkness of space

the mystery of what i see

i don’t know if i’m attracted
to the mystery
of what i see
or don’t

but there is something about
the things i know about you
and the beautiful

spaces between those things
like distant stars
that close up blind me
but from a distance
make sense and shapes
and stories

and i’m a dozen little children
robed in fur
whispering in each other’s ears,
guessing and gossiping:

under the spell
of the nightsky
magic.