tea parties, and Canadian sun:
what the world talked about was
love, and life; life without it.
If I wasn’t on my kneescovered in earthquakes and dams,
I’d have Hercules arms
for holding such philosophies again.
But somewhere along the wayI fell off the dioramic stage
and wept for jewels taken back
to their divine satchels.
Are such treasures only for loan?Is this universe to be so selfish?
I’d fight whoever was responsible,
no matter the blasphemy!
Meantime, a remnant glow remains—
And so the rats tip over and boil,the white lines stay blown away,
and the meteor shower in my heart
doesn’t sparkle out.
In this fragile time between heartbeatsthe embers burn their brightest, their strongest,
lest this long, dark winter
suppresses heat’s intent.
(From the book Kairos)