BONES IN MY SOUL
aka: For Him/By Him
(A meditation on the meaning of the World and everything in it)
as aided by this 16th-century styled subtitle:
trepidate on talon,
Each eye-gate with awe, the weight of His glory,
God’s sorrow takes on tears
through an Icon of flesh,
Would the founder of flounder now fillet a fish?
Or putting on the skin
by a flea of His design?
Great Balls of Fire
lume overhead, and tread the Nocturne Sea:
Furnaces where atoms burn in scalding angel light
And with a din like seraphim,
Wings beating to the rhythm of
The Celeste bagpipe band.
Have you heard that record Play?
I’ve been fortunate to see it spin:
Grooves cut in Kodachrome.
on vinyl, black as night.
We will set a stylus to the heavens
And read it like a CD whirling color.
I imagine Vivaldi
Sung from the throat of whales:
Humpbacks humping, hound dogs howling, willows wailing,
tubas trilling, black-holes blasting, atoms reeling ...
Could we ever have imagined
what is real?