Friday, March 26, 2021


 As a person without faith

It bothers me to think 

Of the Wonders of the World, and realize

There was a time when earthly wonder wasn’t enough.

People must have needed something more mystical

Less mentally accessible—

Like a memory following brain surgery 

Or the funeral of someone important but not


They needed a blur to augment the incomprehensibility

Of enjoyment, an anti-science to assist in


It is spring and a banal gang of four winds

Crashes the morning

And takes over the windows.

They have the logistics of a cluttered play

Whose stage hands fell in love with the sets and couldn’t 

Bring themselves to strike them.

They looked at the scene and put up with 

What it said about them:

However much of this spring moon—

However much—


It begins hot in center, hotter still along the warped edge.

But that part that runs over, toppling the cool toppled


Is unimaginable.