to us, it's seamless

February 16, 2011
published in Live Poets of NJ's anthology "Inside My World" Spring 2011

to us, it’s seamless

the dying sun makes me

into a shadow-puppet silhouette,

carves my outline into the carpet,

pale light shining through

in soft rhomboid shapes

between my icicle elbows,

stereotypical hips,

fishnet ribs. 

with my fingers splayed wide,

some strange diamond prisms

explode open, appear

as starburst fireworks,

ocean waves shattering,

satellites winking in orbit.

the thought draws me up into

outer space, among stars, supernova-new,

and their stained-glass galaxies.

there must be so many beautiful sounds—

endless planetary symphonies,

continuous telescopic overtures—

and no one at all to hear them.

and yet here I am,

back on solid ground,

dreaming only of weekends

and of someone to whisper

his thoughts in my ear.