Because Norma's Garden Speaks French...

There are many
Arresting moments
In living, some joyous,
Some forgiving--
Some handed to
The precinct station
And remanded
To the custody
Of imagination.

Panspychic Instruments

Lenses, table-top pots
Stop instants--
Senses trimmed in retorts
Decant, tease 

Essence out of light,
A cosmos out of night, all

Creation ideating.

You'd think a
Mind that spans
All time would
Not change suddenly,
Impose what could
Be upon what was
But sometimes that's
All it does.