There is an outline,
An old sill, defined
Inside --which I
Ignore-- sealed under
Paint and plaster.
Some imagine old
Disaster deep behind
A disused door.
I don't bother
Any more, not at all.
Let children guess
What grand
Distress went on
Inside the wall.
Back porches change
Year to year,
Rearrange, crowd
And clear.
Doors shift by
necessity but children
Need a mystery.
[photo credit: Norma]
Through a black
Cat-shaped hole
In the universe
Bricks,
Moss-bound,
Disappear and
Distant lights
Shine.
[photo credit: Daughter]
What we gain at
Sunset, and
Daybreak forget
Again --our
Shadow cast over
The curve of
Earth-- there
We perfect, in
Night when shadow
Is everywhere,
Our daily birth,
Our own light.
I did not
Make the rain!
No sneering dowager.
No randy gardener.
No butler who
Never did it.
No old diseased
Colonel creeping
Round in the sun.
No mystery:
A leak and
Caulking gun
Suspended between
Heaven and earth.
No mystery,
Only me.
Where voices of stars
Catch on water,
Ripples spread and,
Depending on
What is said,
Collide or replay
Yet always go
Quietly away.
Government is within,
So is church.
No need to join
Exaggerations.
Under thunderheads
One builds in --
Something special.
This is what one is.
It is also what two
Is, and keep your
Heads protected.
Brains are trying
To live in there.
Space between
Galaxies and space
Between neurons
Is the same space.
An idea addressed
Among cells is
Heard also
Among stars.
The reverse
Is true too.
I believe that
Is you.
