just exactly


the other day

i accepted everything

just exactly as it is.

i fell through a hole

in the universe



there’s this side and

there’s that side

(both are it)

it’s just on that side

(you are the door)

the sun is out

an ecstasy of silence


last night

where i have been

galaxies burned

stars turned

comets, planets, suns and yet an

intimacy i have not known

exhilaration without centre

something moved to find the phone to call someone

to tell them: look

but there wasn’t a phone or

anyone to call

just this:

an ecstasy of silence



i’m reading this book about how god is an unreconstructed maniac

i think it might be true:

it’s why I’ve been afraid


to look her

directly in the face

the day


and the day came

in which i folded up

all my pictures of you:

the saints, the women who made it,

even the horse i had as a child

the one that died.

i folded them up

and put them back inside my heart

the place,

in the beginning

i’d taken them out of

to put on a shelf

as though

they were outside

and i was a shell


on my knees,

hands together

asking for help

people and things


why do good things happen to bad people ?

do good things happen to bad people ?

things ?

people ?

it’s all seeming less and less likely