Tuesday, November 26, 2013

EMPTY PRAISE

Even on tough
full days—like this
there are these

sort of soft spots
to find
where imagination—which is

nothing really—gently
swishes
in and floods around—filling

more than
just some void
of god.

But where voluptuous
air and empty
arcs of light

are simply
glorious
enough on their own—

what use has thought
for a loaded word
such as seraphim?—let alone

an actual—
whole crowded
host of them?

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