Great as sunlight, rock to sky,
green above rich soil,
wings raised lifting sails.
One might not think
to share the parallel
opposite track of another direction,
so many passing conscious thoughts
unaware the apparatus lenses
to the sound transmitted
through the bones of a middle ear,
vibrations felt like hooves thundering
perspectives of mass extinctions,
planetary brutal as volcanic ash.
What mystery named
in mercy, deliverance or retribution,
with hands to hold a rose as well as sword,
would kiss the face of God with song,
trumpet the dawn of time?
The Cosmological Argument
Seeking a proof of God he sets out into the tangle
under an overcast sky of dispute, encountering
Anselm, Prior of Bec, part thatched landscape of Canterbury’s
cut-stone future (ontos), nearly eight hundred years
removed from Paley’s teleology of design & causation,
Kant’s flawed favorite; he arrives back at a windowsill
open to sunshine, birds scurrying past baking oven doors
wafting evidence, plain as day, seen sensory &
self-evident, needing no further explanation,
existence humming in ears just returned from
the long burning forest, loving the music of light
shattering eyelashes, fire warm in a distant room,
centuries away, metal tabletop cold beneath his hands here
folded on the promise of a resolution.
The Cosmological Constant
To balance the gravitational contraction
caused by matter you walk down to the river
in this city of trees about to bloom magnolias
and cherry blossoms. You are suddenly stopped short
by a purple surprise of violets against thick green
and a background scent like aromatic kisses
emerging from winter’s damp fog. Daffodils are erect
and simple in front of another house further on
and ash and walnuts are sturdy oak ribs in the ship
of what is relative to your perspective. You see juniper
and Lebanese cedar over by the sea as you navigate
through the paradigm red-shift expanding universe,
standing for a moment at the intersection of
quantum mechanics and gravity, wondering,
perhaps it hadn’t been such a blunder after all,
as you return to the front step with this persistent
question dropping like a walnut on the driveway
catching your full attention.
This porpoise skipping on waves
doesn’t begin to tell the story
though the part of it that leaps
from one medium density to another does.
This fog above water melted
from the glacier does not even
begin to explain the question,
though some might say that
electrical frequencies do.
If I was honest about what really matters
most at this moment, however,
the possibly fifteen fetal folded
dimensions reflected in your eyes
are nothing compared to your kiss.