Sunday, February 19, 2017

in its reflected view content

Heaven is found not only in my eyes
the wonder of the universe
is stopped in the tree
in the flying plastic bag
watching in the dark library
basement American Beauty
images unclear
desires all confounded
a presence so sweet it causes no pain or confusion,
but a new vision
a totally remade view of some
cosmos, gasping, our eyes grasp
for, squinting, making out in the distance
a form of elegance and order
our bodies do not keep apace
the snow falls, but I
crumble, voice faltering
unable to live into
this vision of swirling leaves
my eye is scratched by some small smell
of sandwich, meat, or other
nauseated by elation
sick on saccharine-sweet springtime sun-soaked atmosphere.

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