The prismatic exactitude of a rainbow, the guttered dirt and leaves of spring, a heart replete with love: all these perceptions can be explained and even addressed as functions of physical laws.
But they cannot be rendered small by an infinite universe that contains but does not itself perceive them, a universe that neither knows nor cares about having brought them to be.
Read more "My Gossamer Universe"
Gleaming through the chaotic grey, the geese again,
but air, this day, so thick
with fog they lift, they rise,
And then are gone like a mist-chance.
Read more "A Seasonal Country"
Driving home with the dad of my two youngest – my mom and one of them in the back seat – I recalled and recounted the moments just before my surgery earlier in the day. As they wheeled me into the OR, with the morphine drip started, I peered keenly, one after another, into the faces that surrounded me. One particularly beautiful face made me feel calm and happy, and I told this nurse, “I love you.” Laughter jolted me away from that face and toward another, and another – “I love you all.”
Read more "In Stitches"
The logical conclusion
Read more "Logical Conclusion"
of your first dark look
follows a classical line
from guarded greetings
and breathless sudden sightings
to the inevitable
privacy of embrace
[that cannot both be
and not be:
reductio ad absurdum].
However long ago, however dim the memory, there is no stretch of elastic time that cannot snap back to what will always be, for once having been. No anger, no flaw, no fear or wish on anyone’s part can annul, or supplant, or diminish a first deep love, a first winter – however cold and frightening, at times – or a firstborn.
Read more "Hearths and Homes"
What moves at midnight
is the lateral indecision of stars
which yet strike straight.
Their vacillation a peculiar refringency:
A bending of light, through the singular elasticity
of night, into waves that shore
on the sonic nerve.
Read more "Winter Midnight"