Wednesday, June 3, 2020


In lieu of flowers,
it might be 

gracious enough 
to consider how

right now, 
pure light 
from the end of the universe—

weightless waves
from nowhere—

are on their way 

through the nothing 
that's there.

And yet, 
you and I can 
still get distracted 

by the words
like ads 
for what we don't have;

we will quibble 
about the shape of space 
like the fit of a new shirt 

and refuse to die 
without having first 

about the pedigree 
and color

of the nectar 
that's refracted.