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Poetry

Little cherub, do you not fly?
Or have you landed here in clothing of light
To fool the eye?
If I hear you in my heart
Are you not alive?
What I cannot touch I feel I cannot know
And yet I know you are in my knowing
If knowing is a body, does it have fingers of light?

So I might feel you as my own
As my own light and as the wisdom
That bothers me at four am
And in heavy traffic in the full delusion
Do you not disturb like a storm
A storm of photons, and causal, like that?
Thatness the very thingy thing
And thinking you I see a light appear in rhyme
For you rhyme with me, my angel
And your love is like a fever
That breathes in and out that comes and goes
This and that, and that and that and the
The very one in all to be my wonder

And then a spring and butterflies flood
The field of eyes and all surprise
Opens like a that and you redeem
You gleam in dim or not, redeem
In secret and in plain sight, angel

You gleam in one, right here right now
Redeem in secret and surmise, angel
Visible, invisible, in visible and not.
In secret and in plain sight, angel.


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