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

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

forever

to look her

directly in the face

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

separate

on my knees,

hands together

asking for help

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