After Glow

I watched priests fumble with a telescope

In my lucid semi-consciousness and laughed.

If stars could look back from

Heavens and hear those calling for heaven

As flames from Andromeda

Illuminate like Bruno’s embers.

A cosmos shattering mirrors

For the superstitious who hear the warning to



My girl.


A whimper from my baby next door, I keep the dream

In a fuzz like the microwave background

of a static  station.

What is he asking for?

A chance for a look too?

Perhaps to find red orange blazing in warmer

climates than our tiny candle can provide.


The clerics focus on each other

Of only a few thousand years ago,

As the swirling waves

Of Canapus, Capella,Rigel and Rigulus

Reach their lens millions of years too late

To chronicle in books of blessing or banishment.


He is crying now in low tones of early morning grumbles

Which it must now be.

I open the door and see what I know I cannot.

The blues of his eyes hitting my own

Nanoseconds apart, but far too dark to be blue.

The deception fades with the wasting away of REM

And the return to the dark greys of uncertainty,

Where beauty and form come slowly and righteously

Even on this dot

on a dot

on a dot in Brooklyn.

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