Ghosts In Pieces Falling

the snow knows each other
it’s falling its talking
its conductivity is blue
but across space
it’s black
an electron that is coded for
a lot like you
and I
and it’s falling from the sky
with longing
to remember
from whence it hath came
what day was it that made
its name
and made her or him or they
turn to snow
and turn into light


What Made This Eternal


It was a pedestal from the sun
that healed me.

Precipiced before the town of my youth.

This same pedestal supplanted the
cellular variables in my female
kitty cat
and while it gave me the energy of
my next birth
it also gave her cancer,
like a plant of metabolism,
a burning of time.

If the intuition of the scientists is me
then it is also the way that I have loved
and lost
the delicate and vulnerable souls
I have loved.

These afternoons between time
can never be repeated.
They are outside the script of
fragile acceptance

whose acknowledgement
has made me eternal.