Around the center
of every dark unbeing
is a galaxy.
Adverbs,
moving in succession
to orbits becoming light.
But that is not all.
Where the battle is
are comets
whose elliptics fall,
and birds
whose new born wings
tell them how to fly,
so that everything
that never was
becomes,
with the power
to blow up worlds,
or turn,
tenderly,
nouns, into verbs
called love.
At the Center of Cosmology
Published inIndex of all Poems