The people are bells
and the echoes of vision,
thunderstorms
encoded into experience;
the natural selection
of cobwebs and rainbows.
Once in a while
(sometimes all at once)
the Goddess will glance out
then all the old landmarks
burst into flame.
A look arrives
on one face
then two.
We become lost together
like birds in a snow storm.
No one can explain this poetry.
One demolishing glimpse
and every window shatters.
Later we reappear
like seals in the sun
wondering who pulled us out
of the sea
to be this ruin of now.
