by David L. Paxton
Come take your place as a Buddha almond
Stationed on an airborne lotus diving
Through cloud caves on fire. Between their levels,
You will have to traverse among each torn thread
Of muscle fibrous billows, their morphing
Clots exposed under the canopy piles.
Come, jettison up from the limbo grounds
Launching out by way of the miniature
Nebulas exploding within pockets
Of annihilated wind. Earthen shades
Unfold across the tundra dunes and their
Plateaus. And peeking through discarded tufts,
These are your first sightings slowed to a crawl
Of infant archipelago crowns. Some
Peaks push desperate to uncover, but
They are fine under clouds lined like still
Rising loaves of bread. But, I know your charm,
Your parental force. I’ll give you this set:
They mature enduring volcano scorched ribs
And storm dug veins, their crests built upon where
Houses, schools, businesses, and hospitals
Shoot up their sides. And just like you, their tribes
Grow. There are always children. As they stare,
The islands tremor less desperate calls.
This is where I discard you moving on,
Because there is no place for you down here.
Where we live – the ocean, the continents –
It is a basement for this huge mansion.
Below the clouds, it is dark. The star
Waves speckle. We are fine. We have our nights.