Guest book and Reviews.



aka: For Him/By Him

(A meditation on the meaning of the World and everything in it)

Or --
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

get bit

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.

Maybe someday

We will set a stylus to the heavens

And read it like a CD whirling color.

Until Then

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?


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