#1
oh, hey guys, didn't see you there  

------------
  

Illumination

Explosion, same claws as firecrack,
the soft of bayou fireflies
blooming and the camera cries 
gear grind into concussion.  

Sunday School, 
Solomon and Ruth tied their willow roots
down into the Moab soil,
until sunset indistinguished itself 
into rainbow flourished oil:
rug burns on a child’s skin collapsed concave. 

My skeleton and meat 
weigh 22,414 pounds less than the obliteration 
pounding through the tomb they fled
afraid, never risen, 
bones burst into illumination. 

This Sunday 
I will preach in the same silence
that whispered to legs “can’t ever run fast enough
from light extinguished in its source,”
where our shadows stretch like cellophane 
over the hopeful Gospels 
where we swore we would change course. 
#2
Really great stuff. You seem such more grounded in your imagery now. I used to feel you lapsed into abstractions for the sake of poetry. This is much more vivid and physical while staying off the nose. Were all going to be suckered by the cellophane line but claws like firecrack is the sort of line I'm finding really impressive here.
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