Turning, Tossing

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TURNING, TOSSING


If ecstasy, never yet of the taken up 

variety. Visions limited to lightning


bugs, Orion, a heavenly host

of other sights available to most. Tongues, 


sure, but strictly of colloquial kind.

There was one time I prophesied,


but I must confess it more of a guess. 

The Apostle put it best: to some this, some


that, flecks of divine razzle-dazzle

sprinkling down like heaven's dandruff


to settle on unsuspecting sleeves. And then

to some of us none of these but a keen


awareness of the dearth: can't quite

hold heaven, can't quite let go of earth.

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