poetry from another dimension

a little light

arcs of light
panes of glass
dust moats floating
in beams

//**have you stopped seeing miracles?**//
the friend asked

[no, of course not]
i responded

sipping cappuccino
appreciating the brilliance
emitted from the friend’s mind
and through the panes of glass
speckled with colors and lines

[the basil flowers
in december
every time we
chant the names of god….
…among other things

we live inside
an avalanche of miracles

of late it has become apparent—

the residue of
miracles touted
ad nauseam
through these lips
for years
in this mind
the delusion
those miracles
just for me,
as if their existence
depended on my worth
and established it
value established
those who
could not see

and now…and now…
it is clear
these proprietary miracles
witnessed and claimed
not for me
but in spite
of me

dense though I may be,
the miracles happened

undeserved, not consciously revealed
or personally delivered

as a matter of fact
my existence is not relevant
to theirs
at all
they go on endlessly
without this unsung poet
shining brilliantly for outlaws
and luminaries alike
and so,
i turn my attention now
to my own foibles
that I might do some justice
to a world
where miracles are as prevalent as stars
in the sky

or dust motes shimmering
in the sunbeam
the air that we breathe
sipping our cappucinos


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