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The book The House of the World has been nominated for the Pulitzer Prize and is now available on Amazon.


They are halfway stations
between ourselves and above.
Sometimes like cathedrals,
light comes through
in a shower of stars,
or the sky falls down
through our arms with joy.
The roof between streets
is lapis lazuli burning with opal,
and the roof for rain is a waterfall.

The roof of a blanket
is like no roof at all,
except Jackie has such a roof
where Michael joins in.
Hung between chairs
it becomes a home
as good as any roof
holding up clouds.

What lives without a roof?
Perhaps the sea under clarity
and mountains too tall
a bird rising to forever
on its last soaring flight
to enter a hall,
where we cannot enter.
But for us
the soul has places
where roofs must be,
wide as the world,
or the width of a finger.

Published inIndex of all Poems