heroes

I’d been led to believe
that the world was finite,
containing no true surprises.
Yet following the very last eclipse
evolution shifted itself, it adapted.

The moon crossed the sun
and now they both hover
side by side in the sky.

The messengers arrived,
bringing with them new ideas.
Their most important task,
revolution,
or so they believed.
They held to their faith
and would not be turned
no matter the evidence,
no matter what distractions.

This world is a melange of
bright light, white noise,
distractions, daily minutia,
of mission statements and goals,
of paradigm shifts, mixed metaphors,
and inconclusive conclusions.
The world is the world is the world
and it just keeps on spinning around.

I’ve seen men vanish,
and I’ve seen men fly,
but I am not afraid.

This morning I felt surrounded
by a persistent energy field,
a calling, a push,
telling me that
I could do magic.

If I could find a way to believe.

among the nightingales

With the tectonic plates
more or less stabilized
and peace (more or less)
arrived at,
the focus shifted
to domesticity.
The building settled into itself,
becoming a home.

The mice made a hash
of the baseboards
but no matter.
Every foundation has its secrets.

At night the skyscrapers were like hills
that whispered peacefully in the wind
and we stretched out on the roof
with bottles of red wine.

Tell me, you said,
about the stars.